


Losing Daylight

by dendraica



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Drago is a terrible person and deserves what he gets, M/M, Recovery, Strange Lands, adopting a sad Bewilderbeast, dragon-killing plants, forming friendships and falling in love, one graphic rape scene, two dork dragon-riders learning about each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission Eret embarks upon goes awry, although not because of his unexpected stowaway. Though initially furious that Tuffnut of all people decided to tag along, Eret soon finds the younger man's help to be invaluable - especially when their shared enemy discovers them in the midst of his dangerous new plans. When Drago captures Tuffnut, Eret takes it upon himself to rescue his companion. Can Eret succeed, and also pull Tuffnut from the dark state of mind Drago's cruelty left him in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

To say Eret was furious was an understatement. Hiccup had chosen him for this dangerous job and he was not going to screw it up. The ship had been loaded with food and water for one week, all of his gear was carefully inventoried, and the wind was good.

He had disembarked with every omen of good fortune at his back, yet it only lasted until dusk, when he dropped anchor in a lagoon after a day's journey. 

Someone was in his bed and he cursed when he saw the flaxen color of hair - Gods _damn_ that persistent girl! Much to his consternation, it turned out to be her brother. 

"What in Thor's name are you doing here?" Eret railed at him, having dragged the young man bodily out onto the deck. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Hey, don't think you're the only one who wants to leave Berk right now," Tuff shrugged, examining a pile of fish guts from Eret's earlier caught dinner. "Those losers courting my sister finally figured out the lies I've been telling them. My fees for insider information were pretty steep; they're not too happy. So what if I came along? I can help you catch fish."

Eret opened his mouth to snap that he wasn't out here to fish, then closed it. Of course, everyone on Berk hadn't been told of the mission - this bone-headed lout probably assumed fishing was exactly what Eret was doing out here. He groaned. So much for a good wind and swift progress, now he had to turn back. His anger at the dragon rider mellowed into resigned irritation, and he moved to raise the anchor. 

"We're turning around and then you are getting off my boat. You can answer to Hiccup for stowing away."

"Uh, isn't that going to mess up your top secret mission to spy on Drago's rumored camp, or whatever it was?"

Eret gaped at him. "Wh-What top secret mission?" he tried to cover, but it was useless. Tuff raised an eyebrow. 

"Wow. So secret even you didn't know it. That's so sad. Lucky I was here to tell you." He grinned sharply. "See, you do need me!"

The former trapper narrowed his eyes. "I can't tell if you're really dumb, or too clever." 

"Most people can't," Tuffnut shrugged. "It comes with being a Thorston."

 _'Thor's Stone', hah, those two were clearly of Loki's ilk_ , Eret thought, and let the anchor drop. No point to turning around now. The sound of the splash made Tuffnut grin again. Eret suspected he would learn to dread the sight of that smile before this job was over.


	2. Spice Merchants

The village of Roenna was near the Meridian of Misery, a bit farther southeast and in only slightly warmer waters. It took two days to get there and Tuffnut proved more useful than Eret had anticipated. He caught fish to supplement the rations, had brought along his own water, and more than once had sent Eret into fits of laughter with his stories. 

The young man wasn't bad company to have. When they landed at the docks of Roenna, Eret decided it was safe to take him with. He made Tuff change clothing, having brought the soft leathers and furs of a different northern tribe than his own, to better sell their story of being spice merchants. Eret had no plans on getting close enough for Drago to see them, but just in case he painted blue dotted markings on his cheekbones and forehead to draw attention from the lines on his chin. 

He did the same to Tuff's face, lightly gripping the boy's chin to apply the ochre. 

"Heh, this is like dragon racing. Next time I get to apply your makeup."

"We shouldn't be here for more than a day and night," Eret told him, studying his handiwork. He plaited Tuffnut's dreads loosely in a long braid down his back. It wasn't an entirely unhandsome effect, he caught himself thinking. Eret dismissed that train of thought and instructed Tuff to let _him_ do the talking and speak to no-one. 

When the boy assured him he got the idea, Eret led the way up to the deck, carrying sacks of nutmeg pods, cardamom and cinnamon. Tuffnut carefully balanced his own basket on his shoulder, containing bags of cassia, salt, and ginger. Together they made their way to the drinking hall. 

It wasn't uncommon in the entirely Archipelago for merchants to show up in places of gathering to first greet the Chief of the village before they set up at the docks. No merchant did this without carrying their wares with them - firstly to show the Chief the quality of what they were selling and secondly because only an idiot left their merchandise unguarded on the boat. 

Chief Bragglestog was not the most suspicious (or sober) of men, and he had a keen interest in everything they had to sell. Especially if it was something that could make the women's cooking more flavorful. Har har har. 

"You notice he said that in front of nearly all the women in his village? I'll be surprised if they don't band together and poison him by nightfall," Tuffnut joked.

Eret smirked. "I wouldn't blame them, but we did learn the village is open still to trade. We weren't turned away and I saw other stalls here. This doesn't look like a place that is bothered by dragons. I haven't seen so much as a Terror."

"That's actually what bothers me about this place. It feels so . . . wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"It's weird, but there were gulls at the docks, right?" Tuffnut lowered his voice. "On Berk there's barely any gulls or ravens because they get eaten if they nest too close. We feed the dragons fish and all, but they seem to really like poultry." 

Eret snorted. "Aye, I've seen Stormfly when she smells cooked chicken. She practically becomes feral."

"So if the birds came back, how long have dragons been away?"

"That's going to have to be one of the things we find out today," Eret answered him. He was pleased Tuffnut was actually paying attention though. He watched as Tuffnut set down a woven blanket and helped arrange the spices. Selling some of the merchandise would only be a cover - it was their best method of gaining current information about Roenna. 

Tuffnut didn't turn out to be half-bad at this - he actually understood what most of these spices were for in terms of cooking and answered the more obscure questions Eret could not. "Black cardamom will still work for your Julekake bread - sure, it's just going to have more of a smokey flavor. I know the green's more expensive, but if you keep it in the pods it'll last a long time." 

Eret left the actual selling questions to him while he made small talk with other customers. "You have no dragon problem, I see. How'd that come about?" 

"A plant that grows here," the man answered him, scrutinizing the nutmeg pods. "Its called Nightscale. Got rid of the dragon problem years and years ago. Killed 'em all off." 

Eret was listening. "How? Did they eat it?"

"No," the villager scoffed. "The pollen in the air knocked 'em dead. Most fell in the ocean, those that fell on land got made into winter's meat. And the hides . . . we got almost an entire flock of Night Furies. The hides went for a fortune."

Eret smiled, though inside he felt sick. He certainly didn't want to have to tell Hiccup that bit of news. Though if Drago had been here for that, it explained where he'd gotten his fireproof cape.

"Who do we talk to about getting Nightscale seeds?" he asked, interested. "I would happily bring those to my own village. Or you know, sell them to others." 

"Ah, you'll not be wanting to talk to _that_ figure. He keeps to the west end of town and I have seen many merchants attempt the same as you're thinking. From talk on the street, they all feel lucky to have escaped with their lives. Rumor has it he's exporting the seeds and reaping the gold himself." 

"Does the village not own its own crop? Surely the Chief objects to one man having a monopoly on this plant. Such seeds could bring in a lot of money to the village, not to mention strike up alliances."

The villager shrugged. "The Chief doesn't seem willing to argue the subject with him. You're welcome to ask yourself. He comes to the drinking hall once a week, a great giant of a man with his bully boys. He and the Chief talk, he gives old Bragglestog a barrel or two of mead, and that's the end of it." 

Eret suppressed a shudder. No, he would not be having a meeting with Bludvist, now or ever. "What day does he come to the hall? I'm sure I can persuade him." 

"Two days from now. Three hours past sundown is his usual time." 

Good. They'd both be out of here by then, and Bludvist would be none the wiser. Eret had a fair idea of what he was planning. Their objective was to gather information and leave the planning to Hiccup. Besides, it would be safer and smarter to stop the seeds being planted at whatever village he'd distributed them to than to stop it at the source. 

Eret thanked the villager, and asked if he'd come to a decision about the nutmeg. The man shrugged, bought a handful, and went on his way. 

At sundown, Tuffnut helped him gather everything up and they walked back to their boat, their load considerably lighter than when they'd disembarked. They'd made quite a bit of money actually and Eret briefly worried they wouldn't have enough wares to continue tomorrow.

"You're quite the sales-merchant. A little too good." 

"I'm a natural. What did you find out?" 

Eret quickly filled him in as they brought their baskets down to the lower deck. Tuff nodded until Eret finished, then he scoffed. 

"Wait, that doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't? Of course he'd have a chokehold on the seeds. Drago has to be in utter control of everything; its practically one of the man's flaws." 

"No, I get that; what doesn't make sense is that guy you talked to. Who buys a handful of nutmeg pods with winter coming soon? From the look of that crowd, this village doesn't get spice merchants that often, and not with the quality of stuff we have." 

Eret groaned and slapped his forehead. "Would you _stop_ thinking like a merchant for just a second, this is serious!"

"I know it is, and so I'm saying that we probably need to -"

A crossbow bolt thunked into the wood between Tuff's feet. ". . . get out of here?" the rider finished flatly. 

"You two, come up on deck!" roared a command. Eret blanched and Tuff grabbed his bicep. 

"Stay in character. We're terrified merchants. For all we know, we're just being robbed," he hissed. "H-Hang on! Don't shoot!" he called meekly up the ladder, climbing it quickly. Surprised, Eret followed suit, keeping his hands in sight and eyes wide in feigned terror. It rankled him not to fight, but Tuffnut had a point - their attackers _might_ simply have eyes for how much gold they took in that day. 

Three shadowed figures waited on the docks, crossbows pointed at himself and Tuffnut. "Where's the money?" One of them asked gruffly. 

Eret grit his teeth, hands itching to find one of his throwing knives. Merchants weren't unknown for fighting to keep their hard-won goods. True they had come for information and not gold, but it would look suspicious if they didn't protest.

"Down below," Tuff answered, making his voice sound shaky before Eret could clue him in. 

"Heh. Just going to let us take it? This was an easy mark, Brutus. You were right!" One of the figures jumped onto the deck and Eret edged toward a lead weight resting near the mast, as though backing away in fear. 

"My, you're a big one to be so scared of little old m-"

Tuff cut him off by headbutting the man in the middle of his back. The blow propelled their startled attacker toward Eret, who delivered a hasty left hook and dropped him. 

"Wow, cool. That worked!" 

"Duck, you idiot!" Eret yelled, throwing himself at Tuff and flattening them as crossbow bolts flew where they had just been. His hands flew toward his belt, sending a knife flying at one of the figures who fell with a dying curse; the other was busy reloading his weapon. He yelled and toppled off the docks into the water as a hurled boot smashed into his face. 

"What, I didn't have anything _else_ to throw!" Tuff yelled at Eret's disbelieving expression. Sure enough, the young fool only had one booted foot now.

"ENOUGH!" The voice that bellowed shook Eret to the core and he turned around slowly as more crossbows pointed at their targets. 

"Two merchants selling mere spices asking after Nightscale? What village do you hail from that you've come this far, asking for such a plant? Dragon troubles back home?"

Eret swallowed, voice frozen. His brand burned with remembrance and it was with great effort that he didn't reach up to touch it. "Well, we heard about it just today," Tuffnut answered for him, still managing to stay in the character of a cowed merchant. 

"Again, how far have you traveled? Most merchants interested in Nightscale have been from troubled islands, still rife with dragon attacks. Their sails have been tattered and repaired, their ships burned and patched up as they sail into port." 

Drago Bludvist pointedly looked up at their own perfect sail and at their unscratched, unmarred deck, before returning his unwavering gaze to them. 

"I know of every ship that sails past these docks and every merchant that gives a vague introduction when reporting to Bragglestog. So, gentlemen, I'll ask again and perhaps we shall part as friends. Where are you from." 

He didn't give any warning after their panicked silence, just reached out to grab Eret's face. Drago's grin was frightening. "Ah. You." 

Tuff suddenly slammed his body into Drago, knocking the man off balance. He then lunged at Eret, shoving him over the side of the boat. "Go!" Tuff yelled and the water closed over his vision with a splash. 

Eret saw Tuffnut get yanked away from the edge and the water's rolling surface above was marred with crossbow bolts firing down at him. He turned and swam down furiously to get out of range, trying for underneath the docks so he could resurface for air. 

Curse that crazy, stupid dragon rider! Not that Eret had a better idea at the time, but he might have thought of something a little less impulsive than this! It was a strain on his lungs, but he was a fast swimmer and skimmed along the bottom until he reached the second dock. He resurfaced quickly behind one of the smaller rowboats, watching anxiously as Tuffnut was manhandled off their vessel. 

Eret winced as Drago gripped the boy's face, turning him this way and that. Tuff appeared to bite him and the resulting backhanded blow knocked him down. Drago's barking laugh of amusement carried across to where Eret hid. He picked up the stunned young man by the back of his shirt and dragged him along, a prisoner. 

Damn. He had to get Tuffnut, and it wasn't like he had any method of sending for help. A carrier pigeon would get eaten and there were no Terrors for miles. It was up to him. 

Eret grit his teeth, waiting until the men who were watching the water's surface had contented himself that he had drowned. Drago certainly hadn't hired any bright guards this time around either. That might serve him just as well. 

He was torn between anger and admiration. The truth of the matter was, Tuff had acted while Eret had frozen. And as important as this mission was, he wouldn't turn his back on his friend.

After nearly half an hour in the freezing tide-pulled waters beneath the docks, Eret silently pulled himself up into the rowboat and began the long journey to the other side of Roenna.


	3. Heartless

To the west of Roenna, above the treacherous crags and cliffs of the coastline, lay the main farmlands. The soil was fertile and this time of year, teeming with the young green tops of the village's food supply. Cabbage, turnips and other root vegetables had all broken the top soil, aggressively reaching for the sun's light for as long as it was present.

There was another crop growing here, producing leafy black stalks like some nightmarish amaranth, and edging the field where the Nightscale grew abundantly was a sprawling camp.

It was here that Tuffnut was brought, despite his every attempt of breaking away from Drago's hold on the back of his neck. The man's grip was so tight that Tuff couldn't even turn his head and he was getting some serious bruising.

They passed a series of tents before entering a larger pre-existing building, one that had apparently been used as an armory before Drago re-purposed it. It still had room for weapons, hanging on the walls and on racks, and several braziers to light it. The middle of the large room contained a table with a map unrolled across it, several small knives marking villages and outposts. The knives' placement marked a sinister shape; that of a circle closing in on Berk.

Tuff tried to read what he could on the map as he was shoved past it, hoping he could remember enough to show Hiccup later. It was something to focus on other than his own fear. The rest of the guards had left them at least, which meant he only had to figure out a way to slip away from Drago.

"Nice. Like what you've done with the pla-"

The fingertips of Drago's hand pressed just beneath his ear and upwards, causing sharp immediate pain in his jaw and throat. Tuffnut stopped speaking in favor of gasping. He tried again to duck out of Drago's grip, with no luck. The one armed man had too good of a hold on him.

"I wasn't planning on killing you, dragon rider. Don't make me rethink it."

Drago let him go and Tuffnut breathed unevenly, working desperately to massage the pain out.

"Yeah? Well you should," he spat, anger winning out over self-preservation, as usual. He'd had it with this pompous (terrifying) douchebag. "It doesn't matter what you have planned, Hiccup's gonna kick your ass, and I'm helping!"

The low chuckle coming from Bludvist only further infuriated him.

"The reason I'm not killing you," Drago said, "Is because you will make a far more entertaining _pet_ than a corpse."

"Pet?!"

"How demoralizing would it be to your friends that the next time they see you, you will be groveling to me."

It was Tuff's turn to laugh derisively. "You've lost it!"

Drago gave the boy a thin-lipped smile before seizing Tuffnut's arm and pressing down hard on a nerve cluster near his elbow. Tuff fell to his knees with a cry of pain and a vicious jab to a point on his collarbone sent waves of debilitating agony through his body. He lay on his side, tremors racing through him and unable to move.

"Attack me then, if you think you can oppose me. Get up and fight, and if you win, I will simply let you go."

Drago turned from him to walk over to the table, looking over the map and seemingly ignoring Tuffnut. The boy tried to move several times, failing to even sit up. His limbs shook with the effort and there was a fine sheen of sweat covering him when Drago finally turned around.

"Your attempts so far are pathetically amusing, though there is something to be said for your determination. Most would have given up by now. Their fear would have won out and they would have lied still, hoping I'd forgotten about them. Still, you try to get up to fight me. Or are you hoping to run away?"

"Fuck you!" Tuffnut spat, sides heaving.

Drago walked toward him, cupping the back of the young man's head and forcing him to sit upright, heedless of his spasming back. "Your friends will be happy to see you are alive. Though by the time I am finished with you, you may wish I _had_ chosen to kill you instead."

It wasn't the words that chilled Tuffnut's blood, but the utterly casual way Drago spoke them.

Almost gently he was laid back down and some feeling began to creep back into his limbs. Tuff could move his fingers and the lower half of one arm - the one Drago had gripped earlier still hurt like hell to move. The rest of him was as unresponsive as a string-cut puppet.

He panted in confused fear as Drago's footsteps receded, only to return with something in his hand. He set it down, where Tuffnut could feel the heat radiating from it. When the boy managed to turn his head to see what it was, his reaction was to recoil as violently as his body would permit. Tuffnut gained less than an inch of distance before Drago knelt in front of him, mutely nudging his legs further apart.

"No, no, no," he moaned as he felt Drago's hand beneath his belt, undoing his laces.

"Tsk. Not so fearless after all, but no less spirited. I'd be disappointed otherwise."

"Stop!" Tuff half-sobbed as he felt the clothes Eret had given him being pulled away, until he was laying naked and helpless on the filthy floor. "Why-what are you--?!"

"Stop me yourself," Drago told him, tossing Tuff's garments aside carelessly. "I've already decided where to mark you as mine. Afterwards." He manhandled Tuff’s body into a more accessible position, smirking at the look of dawning terror and revulsion. The boy was slowly realizing that the branding wasn't the only thing in store. His bare legs trembled where they lay, spread apart over Drago's thighs and exposing him. The man pulled a dagger from his belt, with a thick rounded metal hilt, and laid its cold weight across Tuff's stomach.

"A-Afterw--?"

Tuffnut's question was cut off with a panicked shriek as Drago reached down between his legs, prodding his entrance with a finger. He started cursing at Drago, but there was no hiding or masking the terror in his voice. Drago grinned, waiting until Tuff's voice broke from panic before withdrawing his hand and picking up the dagger's hilt. He let the sharp blade trail lightly across the skin of the youth's genitals, leaving light scratches, and then dragged the razor tip up along the base of his cock before pressing against the sensitive slit.

By now, most men would be pleading, begging Drago not to torture them, or maim them, or whatever they feared he would do with the dagger. It was interesting what they came up with; sometimes they had ideas worse than Drago could think if himself. It was always so amusing. Tuffnut wasn't begging though, not yet, not even as Drago saw droplets of blood welling up around the knife blade's edge as he just barely broke the skin.

Though there were tears in his eyes, and he was clearly frightened, Tuff refused to beg, only hissing out a shaky insult. "Does that make you feel bigger somehow? Using that oversized knife to give me a tiny little paper cut? You’re pathetic!”

Highly amused, Drago snorted. This one wasn't like the others was he? He lifted the dagger and smeared away the blood with his thumb, before bending down to lick at the shallow cuts, sucking the new droplets off a rather sensitive area. Tuff whimpered and turned his face away, shuddering. "G-Great, now go f-fuck yourself with that thing!" he spat hoarsely.

Hmm. Interesting. Drago grinned and turned the blade around, forcing the weapon's thick handle past the boy's entrance and making him shriek. As the cold metal pushed into him mercilessly, Tuff regained enough use of his arm to throw a punch at Drago's face.

It was weak, sloppy, and Drago let it glance harmlessly off his cheek. Despite no damage done, he leaned over to deliver a savage bite to Tuffnut's shoulder as a warning.

Tuff screamed and gasped, choking back tears as Drago pulled away grinning, teeth pinkish red. Drago licked the blood off them and turned his attention back to the dagger's hilt, moving the pommel in and out, taking no care to be gentle. Tuffnut tried and failed multiple times to close his legs, to kick him away; all of it was an impossible dream with this weakness in his limbs.

"Get - get away from me!" he shrieked desperately, but still he refused to beg.

Drago didn't answer him, for a moment not moving the implement inside him at all, and then suddenly shoving it forward too hard, sending the boy's frenzied wails of pain and terror to new heights. When he did pull it out of Tuffnut's shaking form, lines of dark crimson rested in the grooves in the ornate hilt.

Smirking, Drago spat in his hand and flipped the younger man over onto his stomach, his own rigid flesh taking the dagger handle's place. He moved carelessly, ignoring the boy’s constant stream of verbal abuse. Seemingly lost in a haze of agony, Tuff gradually fell silent, breathing raggedly and hitching occasionally.

When Drago was finally finished, he pulled back, lacing himself back in. "Here," he said, tracing a circle on Tuff's hip, "Is where the brand will go. Once it's ready; I imagine after all _that_ , it needs to be rehea-"

A sudden pain in his skull cut him off, which had been preceded by the whistle of the branding iron slicing through the air. Drago recoiled, putting a hand to his bleeding scalp and looking down at the panting boy, who was brandishing the still smoking iron with one badly shaking arm and trying to push himself up with the other. With a surprised laugh, Drago kicked it out of his hand, sending it clattering to mar the floor with soot, and lifted the boy to his feet by his hair.

"Still have some fight left in you? I am most intrigued. Perhaps I will enjoy breaking you even more than I thought."

Tuff responded with a litany of curses involving Drago, his mother and his mother's mother, all of whom could go get their eyesockets burnt out by fireworms. His rage only lasted until his strength did, and soon he was limp in Drago's hold, sobbing out incoherent insults.

He had disliked a great many people in his life, but Tuffnut had never truly _hated_ anyone before now. Drago chuckled in what sounded like fond amusement, dragging Tuff over to the bench near the wall.

"Rest here," he said, letting the boy fall to a boneless heap across it. Drago apparently saw no need to bind him; he had nowhere to run. "Until I return."

Tuff turned his face away, attempting to muffle the broken noises he couldn't seem to stop making.

Smirking, Drago strode out of the armory to oversee his camp. There was work to be done along with careful planning. No brat from Berk was going to stand in his way, and from now on the boy's miserable existence would stand as an example to the rest of that accursed island, not to mention his own men should they slip up.

Far beneath the level plains, a form painstakingly made their way up the sheer cliff face, seeking out hand and foot holds that were invisible to the inexperienced eye. It was an awful long way to drop if he misjudged a single step.

Eret muttered under his breath as pebbles slid beneath his boot, clattering behind him and then terrifyingly silent into a void of empty air. "Hang on, Tuff," he muttered under his breath, as he reached up to find new purchase in the stone.


	4. Cold Flames

At long last, Eret’s hands touched the extended roots of a tree, poking out from the hard rock face. He gripped the thickest of them tightly, tugging to test if they would hold his weight. They held and he used them to pull himself up the rest of the way.

He took a few minutes to rest and breathe, then tied the rope around the trunk of the Loki tree nearest the cliff. It was old rope that he’d found in the rowboat, and it wasn’t very long, but it would help give them a headstart . . . if they made it this far.

Far ahead, there was fire light winking against the dark fields. In the dim haze he could see tents surrounding a building and people walking in groups. Eret had not stood up since he'd crawled over the cliff's edge, lest someone notice him. He knew they'd taken Tuffnut alive, but had no doubt they would kill the ‘traitorous’ dragon-trapper on sight.

As for whether Tuffnut was alright . . . Eret didn't let himself hope he'd be unscathed. He knew Drago far too well for that. Right now he'd settle for Tuff being conscious and able to walk, and once they were away from this place he could take further care of the boy.

Eret took a breath and kept low to the ground, angling toward the trees. They gave him scant cover, but it didn't look like anyone was looking his direction. Probably thinking the cliffs were an impossibility (they damn near were) and not worth worrying about. Eret saw one of the men heading off toward a line of trees by himself, well out of the firelight's reach. He grinned and silently moved toward him.

A few minutes later and dressed like a soldier, his own merchant’s clothes rolled up in a borrowed pack, Eret headed toward the tents, putting the man's hood up to cover his face. There was a strip of cloth fastened to it and as he got closer, he saw that most of Drago's men wore cloth over their noses and mouths. Eret didn't question why, taking the opportunity to further obscure his features.

He got his answer anyway as he passed a fire; the air was thick with dark pollen. Despite the covering, he sneezed and thankfully got only commiserating laughter instead of unwanted attention. He walked among the men, casually passing by tents and fires and seeing no hint of flaxen hair.

Then he overheard someone mention a dragon rider and he paused to listen.

"Aye, he gave Drago that scratch on his head. Haven't heard a noise of out of him since. Think he might be dead?"

"Nah, they would've carted his corpse out of the armory by now. Thrown it to the old Bewilderbeast down the falls. Drago's not nearly done with him yet."

Eret had heard enough. He kept moving.

The armory was a thick building, with high windows and only the one entrance. Eret had walked around it twice, to make sure he hadn't overlooked anything. This was bad. He had no idea where Drago was and no good way of getting Tuffnut out. Eret grit his teeth and then looked up sharply as something sailed out the window. It landed in the grass with a thunk and Eret caught sight of what looked like a grappling hook getting slowly pulled back up the side of the building, seeking something to snag itself on. 

"Tuffnut?" he hissed warily.

". . . Eret? That you?" came the muffled answer.

"Yes, it's me," he answered, relieved to hear the boy's voice.

"There's a knot hole in the wall just a few feet this way." Tuffnut's footsteps moved to his left and he stuck a finger out, beckoning Eret. Snorting with amusement despite the situation, Eret moved over and looked through the hole. 

The boy looked awful, barefoot and clothing disheveled. His gray eyes looked haunted, despite the relieved grin Tuffnut was giving him.

"Are you injured?"

"I’m fine," Tuffnut answered, averting his eyes and looking instead at the rope in his hands. "I was worried they did worse to you. How’d you get here?"

"Climbed a cliff, and tied up a rope that may or may not hold our weight. But I need to figure out a way to get you out of this building before any of that will help us. Looks like you’re a couple jumps ahead of me."

"Yeah, leaving a Thorston alone in a room full of weapons and climbing gear? Not the guy’s smartest move,” Tuff sneered. “He’ll be in for a surprise when he comes through those doors again.”

Eret had a feeling there was a lot Tuffnut wasn't telling him. "Let me secure the rope so you can get out of there. The quicker we leave, the better.”

"Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. He’s the one who won’t be," Tuff said flatly, and it seemed wrong, unnatural, to hear that good natured voice filled with so much loathing. Eret wasted no more time, digging the hooks into a wedge between solid oak boards. Tuffnut scaled the wall and appeared in the window, just as the doors swung open.

He paused in the ledge, grinning ferally as the unmistakable sound of crossbows firing bolts filled the air. Drago’s voice bellowed above the panicked shouts of his guards and Eret hissed Tuffnut’s name sharply. Thankfully the young man didn’t stay long to gloat as his features were lit by the sudden flames of an explosion. He turned and jumped, landing a practiced roll into the long grass. “Come on, we better run,” Tuff said, quickly grabbing Eret’s wrist.

Nonplussed, Eret followed after for a short length before taking over and making sure they were headed the right way. He could smell the smoke and hear other louder explosions as fire stormed the armory behind them.

“Yeah, apparently they learned Monstrous Nightmare saliva is really flammable and great for coating arrows and catapults. Too bad they kept it in wooden barrels all in one place with coal braziers burning all around. Really careless of them. Shame, right?”

If not for the venom lacing his words, Tuffnut would have sounded ridiculously smug. Eret glanced at him as he ran alongside, a question on his lips but knowing better than to ask it right now. He was more concerned with the pain present in his companions face as he ran, and how often he seemed to stumble.

Survival was their priority and their chances would be higher if Drago’s roaring swears stayed far over there. He would likely be too busy making sure the fire was contained to bother going after them right away. Eret wondered if it was worth the risk to see if their boat was still docked and sail-ready. Even then there was a chance they’d be overtaken.

He cursed inwardly, wishing Tuffnut hadn’t caused quite so much damage. Drago would probably not pursue the boy if he’d quietly slipped out of the window and into the night. Too late now, they’d have to lay low and hide. Drago’s men would search the scant tree line all night before they thought to check the cliff. Hopefully by then they would be able to find a place to remain undetected for the night. 

Eret had already hidden the rowboat, wedging it between two bigger rocks and covering it with seaweed to make it look like a storm-blown wreck. It would be there and hopefully still seaworthy when they needed it.

For now, all they had going for them was luck.

* * *

Tuff remained uncharacteristically silent on the climb down, surprisingly good at finding find foot and handholds when the rope ran out. He had scaled cliffs countless times, before and after dragons had come into his life. Wordlessly, he followed Eret over the rocky terrain at the bottom of the cliffs, occasionally wading into knee-deep water and cutting his feet on moss-slicked jagged stone.

Pain barely mattered to him right now. All he knew for the moment was that Eret was searching for some sort of cave and Tuffnut hoped he found it soon. Adrenaline and cold rage could only carry an ill-used body so far, even a Thorston’s, and he desperately wanted to collapse on some sort of surface and sleep it off.

Loki must have heard his quiet thoughts because before much longer Eret found a crevice that looked like a mere crack in the surface of the cliff face. It led deeper than it looked, much deeper, and eventually widened out into branching tunnels. Tuffnut could faintly hear the whooshing roar of a waterfall, very far away.

Eret’s arm was suddenly around him and he let out a panicked shout at the unexpected contact, flailing and kicking to get free. Tuffnut succeeded and crashed against the wall, chest heaving. When the spots in his vision cleared, he saw Eret’s worried face hovering above him.

“My apologies,” Eret explained warily, “You were falling. I was merely trying to catch you. Ssss, and you’re bleeding!” He leaned in closer and Tuff drew himself up straighter, unconsciously putting distance between him and Eret’s hand.

“I know, I don’t have shoes,” he muttered.

“No, your shoulder . . . is it alright if I look at it?”

Tuff shivered, suddenly remembering bloodied teeth in a cruel grin. He felt himself nodding, both repulsed and relieved that someone else would see the circle of indented tooth marks in his flesh. As gently as he could, Eret pushed the fabric off his shoulder and inspected the broken skin. If the man was startled or disgusted by what he saw, he gave no indication.

“I can’t do much now, but that can be improved with fresh water, which I can hear further down in these caves. Can you make it there, or do you need rest?”

Tuff sighed at the thought of cool water, deep enough to submerge in. And he was so thirsty.

“How far do you think it is?” he asked wearily.

Eret paused for a moment, listening. “I can find out, if you’re alright with waiting here.” Tuffnut’s expression must have looked alarmed, for Eret hastened to reassure him. “Drago will not find you here.”

“I don’t . . .” Tuffnut struggled to find something to say other than not wanting to be left alone just now. It seemed too childish to admit. “I don’t like the dark,” he blurted instead. Yes, perfect, that was way more mature-sounding.

Eret knelt with his back to him. “Climb on.”

Tuffnut stared for a dull moment. “Wait, are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t. It’s okay.”

He waffled for a moment, before deciding that pride could just take a running leap into eel infested waters tonight and he’d done a good job blowing up a warlord’s weaponry despite all that had happened to him. So maybe he deserved to be carried, damn it.

Something rustled and crackled as he put his arms about Eret’s neck. He shifted, hoping the map tucked away in the front of his tunic wasn’t tearing. He’d rescued it from the table, unpinning the knives and stashing the folded parchment against his chest before setting up the rest of the fire traps. Not that he thought he’d get anywhere off the island without some serious luck, but if Drago thought it was burned up, then he had a better chance of smuggling it to Hiccup somehow.

Tuffnut honestly didn’t know where he’d be right now if Eret hadn’t shown up when he did. After Drago had left, as he’d laid there fighting against the urge to break down and submit to his terror, Tuffnut had instead catalogued the contents of the armory. As soon as he could move, he’d already known how to turn the building itself into a weapon.

And he’d done it within the span of an hour, pausing only to redress himself and to secure the map. He’d been so fearless of consequence should he be caught in the act, so darkly gratified when some of the rigged crossbow bolts had struck the soldiers accompanying Drago.

So why was it that only _now,_ when they were relatively safe, that his limbs were starting to tremble? That he couldn’t bear to be left alone with his memories? That the thought of Drago finding them now set his teeth on edge and his heart to pounding in fear? He was sure Eret could feel it, even through the thickness of the map.

“Here we are,” Eret announced, and Tuffnut noticed water condensed on the walls of the tunnel around them before a fine spraying mist filled the chamber immediately ahead. Tuff moaned faintly as the refreshing coolness hit them and Eret obligingly let him down.

This cavern was enormous, darker parts of the wall indicating where the cave system again split off into tunnels. Its floor was mostly deep water fed by a series of falls, that ranged anywhere from faint trickles to roaring foam-churning curtains.

Tuff and Eret both drank heavily from the fresh water, getting soaked to the bone under the spray, the former at least having the foresight to roll the map up in his tunic and stash both in a drier place. Then Eret saw to the wound on his shoulder, helping him hold steady under one of the heavier streams of water to rinse it out. Tuffnut, who loved scars, earnestly hoped that his shoulder would not bear any. The coldness of being drenched at least gave reason as to why he was shivering so badly.

As Eret turned away to change back into the drier clothing from his pack, Tuffnut slipped quietly into the pool of water. Lacking the energy to float, he held onto the rocky edge and focused on breathing calmly. He made sure Eret wasn’t looking before slipping a hand below the waistline of his trousers to gingerly scrub away the dried blood and other evidence of Drago’s assault. When he was finished, feeling relatively cleaner but not much better, Tuff hauled himself out of the water and rejoined Eret.

The stolen supply pack, along with Eret’s clothes, yielded strips of dried venison and rabbit, a loaf of bread, and half a dozen small apples. Tuffnut showed Eret the map as he ate his portion of food, sucking droplets of sweet apple juice from between his fingers.

After another drink of water, they agreed to sleep in the much drier tunnel that carried the echoes of the waterfall clearly. It would be off the ground and high up, harder to sneak up on them - even if Drago’s men did think to search underground so soon.

Exhausted, Tuffnut leaned against Eret’s back and soon drifted into a deep if uncomfortable dreamscape. He had no knowledge and therefore gave no thought to the enormous pair of eyes that had watched them from deep beneath the water.


	5. Strange Fish

A hand clamped over his mouth woke Tuff immediately, and he flailed in a panic until he heard Eret hissing urgently for quiet in his ear. Heart hammering and utterly disoriented by the dark, Tuffnut froze against his chest and listened.

Voices echoed through the tube-like chambers of the cave, in the direction of the falls. One in particular caused him to start trembling uncontrollably. Tuffnut clenched his fists and attempted to will himself unafraid, but he may as well have commanded the sun not to rise. Eret carefully helped him up and motioned to the cave silently. The one that led to the falls - towards Drago's shouting voice.

Tuffnut shook his head frantically before he could think better of it. He knew it only made sense to get closer; better to know where the enemy was than to let him catch you unawares. That didn't mean he was anywhere near ready to actually see Drago. 

There was a flash of surprise across Eret's face, followed by an unreadable emotion. Tuff hitched in grateful relief as the man gently put a finger to his lips and motioned for him to stay. He watched as Eret crept noiselessly toward the tunnel, and disappeared fully into the dark.

Drago's voice rose again in wrath, making him shiver. After a long moment, gritting his teeth so hard they hurt, Tuffnut mentally prepared himself to follow Eret. Though he loathed the idea of seeing Drago's hateful face, he didn't want his friend to be alone.

Tuff took a step, then gasped breathlessly as fiery hot pain jolted up inside of him, all the way to his navel. Ugh, he hadn't thought it would hurt this bad after . . . that stupid dagger hilt had cut him up inside. He choked back a whimper and kept quiet after that, walking very carefully with even steps. Drago's voice only got clearer as he moved closer toward the spraying mists. 

In the half-light, Eret's outline was barely visible to Tuff, but he felt immediate relief upon seeing him. Eret glanced at his younger friend, holding out a hand to show him what area not to go past. There were soldiers just down below and to take one step further would give away their position, if anyone happened to glance up. Nobody seemed that keen to look around aimlessly; when Drago was in a rage such as this, it was usually wise to remain focused on him.

"I don't care if you have to scour every house in the village! That brat is here somewhere, and he will pay! Has the boat been stripped?"

"Yes, sir, we got all the valuables off and scuttled her. He wasn't anywhere near the docks."

Eret made a wry face and Tuff felt a stab of cold dread. How were they going to get back home?

"Have you at least found the trapper's corpse?" Drago demanded.

"Still hasn't turned up, but there's a strong undercurrent in that area. It likely would have sunk and been carried out to sea. Sharks would have gotten to it by now."

Eret shuddered and Tuff put a hand on his arm, though his gaze was riveted on Drago. The warlord snorted derisively. 

"A pity. I would have liked to feed him to my other pet." He turned to the largest of the pools and bellowed. Bubbles streamed to the surface, becoming gradually larger until the dragon behemoth finally emerged. Tuff shrunk back against Eret and both men looked at each other in terror, each sharing the same thought. 

_How and why had that thing not gulped them up like fish last night?_

The Bewilderbeast roared in response, tilting his massive dripping head to look at Drago. A wheeled cart was pushed toward it by a nervous looking man, and its load was uncovered to reveal a pile of bodies - twisted burnt limbs reaching for the cavern ceiling. One or two had crossbow bolts still embedded in their chests. Tuff paled. 

He'd been indifferent at the possibility earlier, knowing these men had only accompanied Drago to help hurt Tuffnut further. But now he felt sick with guilt.

"Eat!" Drago commanded. 

The Bewilderbeast moaned, looking at the charred corpses as though they were the last things he wanted to chew on. Tuffnut honestly couldn't blame him. Drago struck the water with his staff, actually making the dragon recoil. "Eat, I said! You should grow accustomed to the taste of fallen men."

Very reluctantly, the dragon opened his jaw and descended toward the cart. Tuffnut was usually not one to be squeamish, but he looked away, gorge rising. 

The Bewilderbeast was in bad shape, he'd noticed. Still half-manacled, with his shattered tusk covered in black rot, anyone could see Drago was mistreating the poor dragon even worse than before. Perhaps it was a punishment, for failing him. 

Tuff couldn't help but feel pity for the dragon, and again wondered why the beast hadn't chewed himself and Eret up earlier. 

"As for the rest of you, keep searching! He is still here on this island somewhere. I want my _pet_ returned to me, alive and unharmed. Our young dragon-rider friend has much to learn on obedience."

Tuffnut flinched, digging his nails into his arms, but Eret reached out and pulled him closer protectively. Tuff glanced up at him in surprise, but didn't comment - daring to look back at Drago. The dragon had submerged with one portion of his 'feast' and was just coming up for another. 

Before he sunk down again, the dragon's enormous eyes turned to glance in their direction, landing on their exact location for a heart-stopping moment. Eret's arm drew tighter around his shoulders as Tuff shook with dread. The dragon would bellow, Drago would realize someone was there, would send his men for them or - _Loki, help them_ \- come for them himself--

The Bewilderbeast raised no such alarm, simply once again disappearing beneath the water. Drago motioned for the cart to be overturned, leaving the last few bodies on the dry stone for later consumption. He thankfully started to move out, and his soldiers followed after, looking cowed.

Tuff was shaking violently, all but clinging to Eret's arm for dear life. The other man let out a shaky breath, once it was apparent Drago was finally gone. 

"W-We can't stay here." 

"Th-There's no other place to go," Tuff managed. "He's . . . searching the village, the woods, the docks . . . He's not ordering anyone to look through the caves. Pr-Probably thinks the dragon would alert him."

Eret nodded, then glanced at him. "Are you in much pain?" He asked carefully.

Tuffnut flushed, realizing that all that had happened was probably entirely transparent now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I tried, I couldn't fight him off. He did this -this weird thing to me - it made me unable to move . . ." It sounded like a lame excuse, even to his own ears.

"No, no, don't think such things about yourself," Eret said, putting gentle hands on his shoulders. "It was never on you to fight him off. He's the one who shouldn't have done it. Put the blame exactly where it belongs - on _Drago._ The man is a sadist and a manipulator; _he wants you to blame yourself._ You had nothing to do with his decision."

Tuff looked up in surprise. He'd been half expecting Eret to protest that it was all his fault, for not being there to protect him. This was different . . . better. Certainly more useful.

"Thanks," he replied faintly. The memory of what Drago had done scared him enough, but the thought of what he'd do to him now, if the madman ever found them was utterly terrifying. He shivered, putting his hands on Eret's arms and leaning in closer than he probably should be. Tuff was grateful when Eret didn't protest. "So . . . how _are_ we going to get off this island?"

Eret sighed, looking down at the Bewilderbeast's pool. "There's another boat, but I fear it may be useless, with all of them searching. All we can do for now is wait things out, until you can move easily. I still have some food, and if we ration carefully and collect water from the cave walls, we might be able to last a week. I don't fancy going down there for water anytime soon - at least not until we know if Drago's visits are a consistent thing." 

"Normally I'd have an idea of how to booby trap this cave system to Ragnarok and back, but . . . I actually have nothing."

"You're in pain and shock, and also completely exhausted. Kind of hard to be your usual trickster self under those conditions, hmm?" Eret smiled affectionately at him and Tuff couldn't help but return it. 

He was hurting and miserable, but at least he was with someone he could trust. Eret surprised him again by pulling him into an embrace. Tuff made a choked noise and took the invitation, holding on too tightly and hiding his face against the broader man's shoulder. 

There would be time soon enough when they'd have to come up with a more solid plan than this, but that time wasn't now. All he wanted . . . all he could seem to do, was to hold on and listen to Eret's soft reassurances that they would make it home again.


	6. Beowulf

He could remember the first time he'd ever displeased Drago all too clearly.

Eret had been young, brave, and foolish - thinking his silver tongue could get him out of everything. Drago had seemed amused at first, so long as he kept getting his shipment of dragons in on schedule.

He had praised Eret, as though he had been an exceptionally good dog, giving him little bonuses here and there whenever he had managed to bring in a valuable beast.

If he had known how keenly those same eyes were watching for weakness, for failure - Eret would have acted with far more grace than he had the first (and only) time he'd under-delivered on his quota.

As it was, the brand itself had nearly killed him - or so his men claimed. Drago had done other things to him besides burn an emblem into his skin; things that had scarred both mind and body, and left him ravaged with a fever for three days in the cabin of his late father’s ship.

It had been his own fault, or so Eret had let himself believe. He'd failed Drago, and that was simply what he got for failing. He happily would have fallen headlong into that eternal trap of self-blame, and probably would have died in Drago’s employ - had it not been for Hiccup and his Riders.

They had done so much more than save his life; they had given him a better one.

He was absolutely not going to let Drago get Tuffnut. Eret had seen the man play many different games with those beneath him - whether it was a commanding officer or a lowly dragon-trapper. Once or twice, he'd seen what was left of the men who captured Drago’s interest.

Tuffnut would be a prisoner of war, from a foe who had once bested Drago. That was a dangerously interesting thing to be; Eret should have guessed why they were searching so thoroughly for Tuff. It didn't matter that he'd blown up the armory, though that certainly hadn't helped.

The dragon rider in question was currently lying in his arms, without his clothing and shaking with fever. The bite on Tuff’s shoulder was burning with infection, and Eret knew there were other places that needed attention as well. Honestly, what his friend needed was a healer - but he doubted he could train a half-starved Bewilderbeast to go out and fetch one.

Tuff would have to deal with Eret’s practical knowledge or risk dying in these tunnels, but the boy had seen the sense in it, even as he’d gripped Eret's wrists with white knuckled hands as they began to undo his laces. “Please let me do this part myself,” Tuffnut had begged, and Eret hadn't the heart to refuse him.

He was relieved Tuff trusted him enough to do what he could, just resting against Eret’s chest as the man rinsed his body with clean water. Eret used a clean piece of linen from the extra clothes in his pack to wipe away the pus gathering in the teeth marks Drago had inflicted upon him. He pinched the flesh until there was new blood, feeling guilty at Tuffnut's distressed moan.

If he had his own pack, Eret knew he could have treated the wounds far better - with garlic, comfrey and honey. It was small wonder some of the men in his company had believed Drago was a monster - a shapeshifting abomination that could go from human to wolf.

There were stories of Drago Bludvist once biting a man who’d died the next day, stories of the same man having to be dismembered in death so he too did not spread ‘the curse’. Superstitious nonsense, that last part - though Eret did believe the bitten man had actually died - of infection.

He made do with an apple peel, pressing the inside of the fruit’s skin against the heated flesh of Tuffnut’s shoulder. It was an old village remedy for fighting off disease, and he hoped there was some truth to the old wives tale. Eret shifted Tuff further up in his lap, trying to ignore the boy’s panicked hitching as he reached down to inspect the other wounds Drago had inflicted.

“Sorry, I know -” Eret soothed, not wanting to be the one who did this either. Tuff turned to hide his face against Eret’s throat, panting in the terror of his own memories. “You're here, you're safe,” he reminded soothingly. “I won't harm you.”

Tuff whined and nodded. “I know, I know - I s-said you could do this --” he stammered.

“You did, and that was brave. You also said you'd never live it down if you died from -”

“A paper cut, yeah,” Tuffnut supplied, managing a weak grin. Eret returned it and gently kissed his temple as he turned his attention back to him. It was dark even by the waterfalls today, as a heavy storm buffeted the island and kept the precious sunlight from falling through the cracks. Eret didn't dare light a fire to see by, knowing the smoke would escape and give them away.

He had seen Drago today once already; the man and his guards arrived every day with food for his ailing dragon - whether it was a wagon full of pig guts or meat that was unidentifiable. It had a bad effect on Tuff, stressing the younger man out to the point he had fallen ill. Eret had risked going down for water a couple hours after Drago left, despite Tuff begging him not to. He was fortunate; Drago did not return and the Bewilderbeast did not emerge, seeming to have no interest in them. He'd filled up both water skins and had used half of one already just to flush the boy’s shoulder.

The cuts Drago had left on the more vulnerable parts of Tuff’s anatomy were fortunately not badly infected - not compared to the bite. There was no pus, simply red and inflamed skin around a red healing line where the blade had dug into him.

Tuff shivered violently and at times jumped at his touch, however gentle Eret tried to be. He didn't tell the man to stop though - even though he'd been assured he could at any time. That alone was probably the reason he was allowing the man to continue, as he seemed to retreat further into his mind, giving the occasional pained mewl.

Eret washed all the cuts he could find - gently scrubbing away more dried blood with his fingers. Drago kept his weapons much cleaner than he kept his teeth, apparently. Beyond that, there wasn't much he could do for the boy in terms of relieving the pain - which Drago had obviously caused a great deal of.

Tuff gave a soft pleading apology and curled on his side after Eret had finished, hiding his face in the man’s furs. “Don't be sorry,” Eret insisted, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “You haven't done anything wrong. I'm glad you're here - that you came with me. Nobody needs to be sorry except Drago, and don’t hold your breath for that apology.”

Sudden uneven laughter came from Tuff at those words, and something about it made a Eret's skin prickle. “I'll make him sorry. Sorry he ever laid a hand on you too.” Fingers lightly brushed Eret’s chest, where the brand had marked him. “I'll find a way.”

Eret took a hold of Tuff’s shoulders and made him sit up, frowning at how feverishly bright the boy’s gray eyes were. “Tuffnut?” he asked warily. He'd always known the Twins to be a bit strange, but this felt beyond harmless eccentricity.

He felt the boy’s face rather uselessly; his own hands were cold from washing Tuff’s skin with water. The boy felt like he was burning alive, but Tuff’s eyes softened and he turned his face to nuzzle and kiss Eret’s palm. “I think I know what I have to do," Tuffnut muttered hazily. 

Biting back a curse, Eret pulled him into a tight hug. “Yes. You're going to lie here against me and rest. Get some sleep and don't do anything crazy. Drago has to give up eventually, and then we can leave.”

Tuff shifted to lay more comfortably against him. “ _Does_ he ever give up?” The boy asked, and the exhausted pain in his voice made Eret’s chest hurt.

He reached up to stroke Tuffnut’s hair until he heard the boy’s breathing relax into gentle snores. Only then did Eret let himself drift off into sleep.

When he awoke some hours later, he found his arms empty.

Tuffnut was nowhere in sight.

\----

Fortunately, the dragon rider hadn't gone far, but Eret’s heart caught in his throat as he saw Tuff wasn't exactly alone.

The great dragon that lived beneath the pools of the waterfalls - that Eret had personally seen decimate armies and villages - had its head partially unsubmerged to watch Tuff telling some kind of story.

Eret was frozen in horrified silence - knowing if he made a sudden noise or movement, the dragon would likely react. That thing could snap Tuff up in one bite if he was truly hungry, and it wasn't like Drago was over feeding him lately.

“So yeah, I guess Drago thinks he can push you around too, huh, B? Just because you're starving and missing half a tusk doesn't mean you can't take him on. I know Toothless would take you in if you wanted to come back to Berk with us. There's fish, and boars and lots of whales to eat.”

The Bewilderbeast gave a hungry groan and licked its chops. Eret really wished Tuff would stop talking about food in front of the behemoth.

“Just be careful not to swallow any narwhals, because those things have long tooth-horns, and that would really suck to get caught in your throat. Hey, speaking of horns - Gobber might be able to help with that.”

Tuff reached out and gently touched the Bewilderbeast’s tusk. As expected, the dragon flinched away and moaned. Eret made a decision and backtracked out of the tunnel, quickly navigating to a lower one so he could grab Tuff to safety - and then likely throttle him.

What was he thinking? What if Drago returned and caught him down here?

By the time he'd reached Tuff, Eret heard only a splash and the surface of the water was rippling unevenly where the massive dragon had just been. Tuffnut bent to retrieve something it had deposited in the shallower edge of the pool and turned to face Eret, holding up three large fish.

“Hope you like raw salmon?” Tuffnut offered, sheepishly.

\----

Despite all of Eret’s questioning, Tuff himself honestly didn't know how he'd managed to befriend Beowulf.

He _could_ explain why he'd named the dragon that; it had seemed obviously perfect, since the poor thing had been enslaved and tortured by Drago - a real life Grendel if he ever knew one.

Beowulf had done everything his master commanded him to do, and Toothless had still defeated him. Now Toothless was his Alpha, not Drago. That sort of thing really had to mess with one's head - especially now that Grendel - er, Drago - was keeping him trapped away down here without food or decent medical care.

“I think he just wants to switch sides,” Tuff shrugged, licking the salmon juices off his fingers. Eret had gutted the fish, then picked the bones out with his knife. Tuff could tell by the set of his shoulders and his furrowed brow that the former trapper was still furious at the risk Tuff had taken.

“Dragons that big are their own sides! They don't _take_ sides, Tuffnut! It could have swallowed you whole.”

“Instead, it totally brought us dinner.”

“I've seen that thing kill entire villages, wipe out armies! And you're willing to trust it with your tiny little life?”

“Think of it from his point of view. What's he got to lose? Right now, Beowulf is dying, scared, and alone. The _thing_ that enslaved him has decided _it's_ not going to provide him with food or care anymore. What use is Beowulf to Drago Bludvist, now that he's no longer the Alpha? Besides, I don't think the Nightscale pollen is doing him any favors. Winds like this only blow it all around, and it wasn't for all the water . .

Tuffnut paused, getting a sudden horrible understanding of what Drago was doing. “Eret, there's no land dragons here. You said the Nightscale kills any dragon that flies over it, even Night Furies . . .”

“Right, it does. What Drago is planning . . . have you figured something out?”

“Still have that map?”

Eret looked at Tuff carefully and then nodded, wiping his dinner off his hands as he retrieved it from the pack. 

The map was unfurled, showing tears in the parchment where daggers had been. The holes formed a circle around the island of Berk. “He's exporting more Nightscale seeds, but I think it's more than that. If he exported pollen with the seeds, he'd have immediate results and people would like that. Worst of all, he's doing it now - during the storm season. There's going to be winds to blow this pollen around, and it will kill every dragon except the ones who live and breathe underwater. Like his Alpha.”

Tuff drew in a breath and looked again at the map. There were illustrations of sea monsters further down on the map with names scrawled next to them. Submaripper. Titan Scauldron. Shellshocker.

“If he manages to kill Toothless and all the dragons, Beowulf will become the Alpha yet again. And lead every water dragon and leviathan to crush Berk. He doesn't care if Beowulf dies after that, because his mission will still be complete. Drago will be the dragon-slaying hero and unquestionable ruler if the Archipelago. And Berk . . . our Berk . . . will become nothing more in legend than a forsaken place with a tragic story.”

Eret looked up as Tuff fell silent, face pale. In moments he had closed the distance between them and pulled his friend into a hug, feeling relieved when he felt Tuffnut’s arms returning the embrace. “We won't let that happen. I trust you, Tuff. If you think this dragon can be our ally, then I will not stand in your way to further befriend him. Just . . . please be safe. From Drago as well as giant Bewilderbeasts.”

Tuff looked up at him and smiled genuinely, looking like his old self. Eret had feared that smile of pure mischief and sunshine was gone forever. Relieved beyond words, he kissed the boy's forehead and hugged him close, refusing to let go for some time.

 


	7. A Crowded Gate

If anyone were to ask him whether or not he was afraid right now, Tuff would answer no. He’d be lying through his teeth, but he’d still deny the terror that laced through every fiber of his being as he heard Drago’s echoing voice, or even the squeak of the cart wheels as it came laden with Beowulf’s dinner.

This time there were pigs and buckets of entrails from other slaughtered livestock. Beowulf had groaned happily at the sight and ate what was tossed in front of him. It was painfully obvious he was starving; he even licked the bloody stains left on the stone bank on which Drago was standing.

The man smirked and stretched his staff toward the Bewilderbeast. Moaning, the dragon retreated from licking the rocks, then bowed his head in subservience. Tuff grit his teeth and fairly burned with anger. Beowulf ought to to bite Drago’s head clean off his shoulders, but he knew that likely wasn’t going to happen. Right now, Drago was the only one feeding him - as little food as it was, Beowulf couldn’t afford to lose a morsel.

Not for the first time, Tuff wondered exactly how the dragon was trapped in here. They’d had to force him inside somehow, which meant there was definitely an opening somewhere, big enough to get him out again. The way Drago came in himself each day was broad enough for several men and a wheeled cart, but it wasn’t nearly big enough to let Beowulf pass through.

Eret’s guess had been an underwater passage that they’d sealed off somehow. Or maybe Beowulf was chained in place beneath the water. Either way, it meant diving down to look, and Eret was absolutely not a fan of either of them jumping in the same body of water as a very dangerous starving dragon.

His fear made perfect sense, but Tuff knew they had to figure this out soon - before Drago had his men search the caves.

He _had_ been ordering them to search lately - several hair-raising times, in fact. Tuff and Eret had watched the hapless men try to approach the lower caves, only for Beowulf to poke his head above the water and growl at them hungrily.

Each time they had nervously concurred amongst themselves to just not and to tell Drago they’d found nothing. After all - surely the dragon would eat anyone not supposed to be here?

Thank Loki for lazy self-serving hires.

Tuff kept perfectly still, pressed against the stone floor to watch Drago closely. The man was gazing around at the honeycombed cavern walls, looking up thoughtfully at the higher ones. It made Tuff’s stomach turn uneasily, and he bit his lip, angry at himself for feeling such fear.

Drago may have gotten a taste of him, but that didn’t mean he was entitled to any more. Tuff had promised himself that he’d kill the man first. Not that he’d ever killed anyone in his life, but there was a first for everything.

He didn’t move as that gaze swept blankly across the ledge he was laying on, too well-hidden for Drago to even hope to see him.

The man turned and left, stalking slowly back the way he and his men had come. They followed behind, all eight of them. Tuff had counted heads coming in, and he counted them going out too - ever since Eret had watched two stay behind in the shadows for four hours - keeping perfectly still. As vigilant as the former trapper was, he’d almost missed them, and had either of them gone down to get water while they were still there, they would have been caught.

It was lucky for them they had a water source - as well as fish that Beowulf caught and deposited on the ledge for them. He was hungry himself, but kind enough to share what he could with the humans.

Tuff looked down at Beowulf fondly. The bewilderbeast was easily startled and didn’t care to be touched very much, but Tuffnut could see a hope in the dragon’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. He trusted them.

“Are they all gone?” Eret murmured, putting a gentle hand on Tuff’s elbow. The boy glanced back at him, then nodded.

“All of them left, I made sure to count. I want to go down there and see something.”

His friend scowled, already knowing what that something was. “Tuff, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to go swimming with your Bewilderbeast friend just now. Drago could come right back.”

“You said that yesterday. Drago didn’t return all day. I don’t want to go down there either, but we have to. It might be a way for all of us to get home.”

Eret groaned and turned on his heel, walking back into their tunnel. Tuff followed. “Come on, Beowulf won’t hurt me. He’s been leaving us food, right? He hasn’t given us away and he totally warned those other guys not to search the caves - you know that was on purpose. He’s protecting us!”

“I don’t know that he won’t hurt you accidentally, and neither do you. Look, I said I trusted you and I wouldn’t stand in your way, but I fear you are moving too fast. You haven’t even done that . . . that . . . whatever Hiccup does with his hand. The hand thing.”

“He’s too big for that,” Tuff shrugged. “He does like his new name though. I don’t think Drago ever named him. Weird. How could you _not_ name something as awesome as a Bewilderbeast? Like, ‘Deathtusk’ or ‘Doomstep’.”

“Probably because he just sees Beowulf as a weapon.”

“What, and men don’t name their weapons nowadays? What’s up with that? I had a mace once, named -”

“Tuffnut - listen to me. Beowulf _is_ a weapon. He’s _Drago’s_ weapon, and Drago controls his food. If that man shows up while you’re down there, do you honestly think Beowulf will defend you? Hide you?” Eret asked, putting his hands on Tuff’s shoulders. He was holding on a little tightly - and Tuff knew it was because he was worried.

“Then come with me. I don’t want to die holed up in here, waiting for that creep to try and make me his pet. I doubt you want him to kill you either. Or you know, make you his pet too. It’s not like you're not handsome enough.” Tuff trailed off awkwardly, not quite sure why he’d blurted that.

Eret’s face colored. He looked away, clearly not knowing what to say. Tuff pushed on through the moment.

“Anyway, it’s only a matter of time before he searches this place thoroughly. Drago didn’t really think we were here before, but I think now he’s starting to consider it. All he has to do is stay here while they search every tunnel, and Beowulf will have to behave.”

Giving a sigh, Eret nodded. “Fine. For safety, I will go with you. We need to leave our outer clothing up here - so we leave no sign and have something warm to come back to.”

Eret was wearing parts of another guard’s uniform - his and Tuff’s merchant’s clothing was rolled up in the corner. The fur-lined cloaks had been serving them as bedding - both to cushion from the rocks and dirt and to give them a blanket. Tuff hesitantly stripped down to his underclothes, leaving his boots, trousers, and merchant’s tunic behind.

Honestly he didn’t want to take them off and go down there half-naked, but this was his idea, and the clothing would only weigh him down in the water.

He was shivering when he stood up again - and Eret turned to regard him solemnly. “Here, take this,” he said, handing Tuff a knife. It was small but well-crafted and sharp - with a handle made of carved antler. “It won’t do very much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Eret had no weapon on him but a small hatchet he’d gotten out of the guard’s pack, and Tuff knew better than to ask for the bigger weapon. He’d seen how Eret handled himself in a fight; his friend should definitely have the axe.

Tuffnut tucked the knife into his belt. It was indeed small, but he felt better to have something in case any of Drago’s men showed up. “Thanks.”

He wasn’t a very strong swimmer - though he could hold his breath for quite a while. Ruffnut was the better swimmer of them, and it might have something to do with the fact she got regular visits from Scauldy and his pod. If he ever got home, Tuff swore to himself he’d go swimming with her more often - he’d do whatever Ruffnut wanted him to.

His heart pounded as they walked silently down the tunnels - barefoot and skin prickling from cold. Eret paused at the entrance of the floor cave, listening hard. There was no sound save for the gentle bubbling of Beowulf, resting just beneath the surface of the main pool.

It was deep, and dark, and Tuff followed Eret hesitantly toward the edge of the pool, sitting down to slip quietly in the water next to him. They made hardly any noise, but nobody came running to subdue them now that they were out in plain sight.

Eret took a deep breath, glancing at him, and sunk down. Tuff anxiously watched him disappear into the inky depths. He took a breath himself, and followed after.

Beowulf was curled up down there, attempting to make himself small so he could comfortably fit on the bottom of the deep pool. The effect was somewhat like a full-grown chicken trying to make a nest in Fishleg’s tiny helmet.

The Bewilderbeast looked up at them curiously, but made no move to intercept them. Or eat them. Tuff gave him a friendly wave, and kicked his legs to catch up to Eret.

Though the main pool was barely deep enough to let Beowulf rest, there was an opening big enough to let him through to the next section of cavern. They glanced at each other and swam forward, pushing through the dark tunnel until some light up ahead showed them into a grotto.

There were bones littered everywhere - deposited carelessly on the sand in little piles around a forest of kelp. Not all of them were animal bones, and plenty still had meat attached. Little clusters of fish, sea slugs, and crabs were hard at work, removing flesh and gristle from certain piles.

Eret grabbed Tuff’s arm and pointed ahead, where a metal grid had been put up over an arched opening, definitely big enough to let a Bewilderbeast in and out.

By its silhouette, the gate looked thin, rusted, the light vastly blocked in the middle by what looked like a huge clump of clinging debris. Tuffnut couldn’t understand why Beowulf hadn’t just headbutted his way out. Even if it was dragon-proof metal, the big dragon could easily destroy the rocks it was attached to by sheer force.

Tuff swam closer and then stopped in horror as more light shed on the scene.

The metal grid was spiked on the inside - long enough shards of metal to deter even the most frantically hungry dragon. Beowulf would risk blinding himself or worse if he tried to headbutt his way out. The solution the poor dragon had tried instead was little better; the clump of debris turned out to be his dinner from the past couple of nights.

Beowulf hadn’t been eating the corpses Drago had left for him; rather he’d been pinning them to the gate to give himself sort of a cushion to try and open the gates with force. And when that failed, he’d resigned to let the corpses attract fish and ocean scavengers.

Tuffnut recoiled as a tiger shark swam in through one of the unobstructed grid windows. It was a small one, and it paid them no attention - instead tearing at one of the impaled corpses. Eret gripped his arms and kicked up, heading toward the surface of the grotto pool.

They were in a smaller section of the cavern, with a much lower ceiling that shielded them from view. The only way to get to the main cavern seemed to be by swimming. It would be an ideal place to hide once Drago started his search, but judging by the wet seaweed and anemones clinging to the ceiling, the place likely filled up with water when the tide came in.

 

Tuff panted for air and Eret held onto him, equally breathless. “Alright, I’ll say it. That was utterly the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I never want to go in the ocean ever again.”

“Oh come on,” Tuff replied, teeth chattering. “That’s so not the worst thing you’ve seen. Don’t you feel better knowing that Beowulf wouldn’t eat you?”

“No, I don’t feel better. I’d rather be eaten than stuck on a gate for all eternity as shark food.”

“He’s got no other choices. I bet he figures he can open the gates once he gets rid of all the spikes. But maybe there’s a latch or something that we can get to?” Tuff wondered. He took a breath, about to dive down, but Eret stopped him.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to reach into that - that mess?”

“I will do that . . . last of all. Maybe we can fit through one of those holes and look from the outside?”

Eret nodded, and both of them went down, swimming toward the gate again.

Tuff avoided the spikes as best as he could, coming out through the other side. He scanned the area above to make sure no boats were out here, then looked at the coral and rock where the grid had been fastened.

By the time Eret swam through, Tuff had found eight barrel locks - each the length and thickness of a bear’s femur. They were on all sides of the grid, cementing it firmly in place. The bolts themselves were embedded in the ocean floor, and into the rock arch itself.

Tuff swam to one of them and gripped the metal knob, straining to pull it. Inch by inch, the rod slid out. Eret watched him and moved to another. They got two before needing a breath - which they took inside the grotto rather than out in the open. Then they swam back out and tried again.

Five of the bolts were undone by the time they completely lost their strength; Tuff could barely find the energy to kick his legs.

Eret pulled him back through the gate and up to the surface. “We can try again tomorrow. We still have to climb back up to the tunnel,” he said, through chattering teeth. “We need to get warm.”

He was holding onto Tuff, who had to admit - he felt warm enough against Eret’s skin right now.

“Okay,” he muttered, face heating up a bit. Eret looked him over a moment, then his eyes fell on Tuff’s shoulder, where Drago’s infected bite stood out, a reddened brand of a different nature than the one on Eret’s chest.

Tuffnut turned his face down, ashamed of the mark Drago had left, but Eret leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his cheek. He paused for only a moment, then lightly continued the kisses, making Tuff’s heart stutter.

He looked up, not expecting any of this, but certainly interested to see where it was going.

Eret regarded him, eyes wide and covered in droplets of water that caught the light from below, making his skin shimmer - not unlike the water shadows on the ceiling and walls around them. The former trapper leaned in and carefully captured Tuff’s lips with his own.

If anyone had ever told Tuff that he was going to be kissed in a grotto, while floating just above a mass of impaled dead bodies, while also trapped in a cavern with a starving Bewilderbeast as they hid out from a crazy warlord who wanted to make a pet of him . . . he probably would have told them to stop being a hopeless romantic and to get real.

All things considered, this probably wasn’t the best time to be doing this. Though Tuff wasn’t sure why that mattered, and he’d never been the practical one. Eret was the practical one, and if he actually wanted this . . .

He returned the kiss, reaching up to tangle his hands in Eret’s hair. It was exactly as soft as it looked.

No interruption came between them. No harsh voice, no distressed dragon roar - just the quiet lapping of water against stone walls. It was a safe enclosed space, and despite the macabre scene just below them, Tuff felt truly safe and happy - for the first time in days.

He very much doubted it would be the same if Eret wasn’t here with him right now.

The trapper pulled him closer, kissing him again with a little more confidence. Tuff responded eagerly, pressing against him and winding his arms around Eret’s shoulders. He let the man kiss down his throat and then gasped, nearly flinching when Eret’s lips brushed over Drago’s bite mark.

Eret murmured an apology, pulling back, but still holding him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s okay. D-Do it again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please. It’s my shoulder, not his, right?” Tuff pleaded, hating how brittle he sounded.

Eret seemed to understand and leaned back toward him, pressing his lips against the wounded skin tenderly.

Tuff let out a ragged breath, focusing on how it felt. Eret’s mouth was warm, and the little puffs of breath against his shoulder seemed to make everything hurt less - mean less. The bite Drago had ‘claimed’ him with was just an injury, and nothing more.

He decided to return the favor, moving closer to Eret and kissing along his collar bone. The trapper moaned as Tuff’s fingers stroked down across his chest, his mouth following behind. Eret took in a sharp breath when Tuff’s lips touched his brand, but he didn’t stop him.

Tuff didn’t linger there, simply moving on, straight to the man’s nipple. He couldn’t help himself; it was already pointed from the cold. Eret gave an abortive yelp as Tuff’s mouth closed around it, and the blush that followed was even more enticing. He relented and backed off.

“Too much? Sorry.”

“No, no - just surprised,” Eret admitted, grinning shyly. “Pleasantly so.”

For Tuff, it was like he’d just discovered his own brain hiding under a rock. How had he not noticed that Eret liked him? How had he not noticed that he felt this way about Eret?! All his life, Tuff had honestly just assumed he wasn’t attracted (or attractive) to anybody.

Either way, he really didn’t have the luxury or time to think about it right now. Tuff let Eret draw him closer, giving him another kiss. He rested his forehead against Tuff’s. “We should go warm up. While the coast is still clear.”

“I guess we should do that,” Tuff murmured, looking down. He didn’t much care for what he saw. “Before more sharks fill the grotto at least.”

Eret cursed, seeing the problem. The tide was starting to come in, and with it, more scavenging sharks to eat away at the mess of bodies. There were seven sharks down below - mostly small but still able to inflict damage in the current feeding frenzy they were in. Their best hope was to keep as far against the wall as possible and to move slowly.

Before they could move, a large bluish form filled up the grotto just beneath them, sending the water swirling too hard for Tuff to get a good look at what it was. He didn’t need to really; it was definitely Beowulf, come to check the traps he’d made to lure in extra food.

Yikes. He felt sort of bad for the sharks. Invited to dinner . . . and then becoming dinner.

Not a single shark remained after Beowulf retreated, though a few had escaped - Tuff saw them swimming warily past the gate outside. He and Eret didn’t wait for them to come back. They dove back down and swam quickly toward the main pool, swimming just over where Beowulf had once again curled himself uncomfortably.

Tuff lingered over him for a moment and Beowulf upturned his face, letting out a few mammoth-sized air bubbles. The dragon blinked slowly at him and turned his gaze away. Tuff had been around dragons long enough in his life to know it counted as a sign of tolerant affection.

He grinned back and swam up after Eret, noiselessly breaking the surface of the water.

The area was quiet and still, no other signs of humans besides them. It was still nerve-wracking as they moved silently out of the water and blindly made their way up through the dark stone passages. Tuffnut didn’t breathe easy until they were back in their familiar tunnel and Eret was sitting next to him on the makeshift pallet, also shivering.

He grinned at Eret and opened his arms, knowing the other man was thinking the same thing.

“Come here,” Tuff murmured softly.

Eret obeyed gladly.


	8. Once Bitten

Drago wasn’t a man known for his patience.

When news was brought to him that his men had caught the rider boy down by the docks, he met the men halfway, as they frog marched their struggling prisoner up the winding path to the fields.

The boy was dirty, long blond hair and thin face - he could see how the men had been confused. But it wasn’t the dragon rider.

Drago scowled and gripped the handle of his knife -  of half a mind to just kill the brat anyway for causing him such disappointment. He didn’t draw the blade however, leveling a cold gaze on his men. “Where did you find this one?”

He ignored the wide brown eyes looking up at his towering figure. The boy had frozen in terror, ceasing his efforts to get away. If he was very smart, he’d keep his mouth shut.

The men looked at each other, then one hesitantly offered his explanation. “He was down by the docks, going through rubbish heaps lookin’ for food. We thought maybe -”

“I’m aware of what you thought. But he isn’t the one I’m looking for.”

Grey eyes burning with hate and triumph, a thin angular face lit by the fires that had engulfed the building. Long braided hair and a wicked flashing smile.

The boy had looked like Loki himself up on that ledge, and had wreaked havoc just the same.

Drago had been oddly thrilled, even as crossbows had fired, nearly spearing through his ear to land in the throat of one of the luckless warriors flanking him.

The dragon rider had been so weak beneath him, so feeble - Drago had almost dismissed him as nothing of consequence. How fortunate that had turned out not to be the case. Bludvist rather liked surprises.

He looked at the urchin presented in front of him and smirked. “Do you have a family?”

“Yes. My mother. I was trying to find food for both of us, sir,” the youth replied shakily.

So he would be missed, likely.

Drago reached down into the pouch at his belt and brought up a few bronze coins - enough for a beggar and his mother to get a warm meal of some kind at the tavern.

“Go get something to eat. And perhaps stay clear of the docks for a while. We’re searching for someone. I doubt you want to be mistaken for him again.”

The boy swallowed, eyes wide with fear. “Yes sir, thank you, sir,” he grovelled, and took off once Drago had tossed him the coins. He doubted the boy knew just how lucky he’d been.

He turned to regard his men, who weren’t so lucky as to be dismissed. “What color were that boy’s eyes? Please, remind me. I didn’t get a good look.”

The first man swallowed. “Brown, sir?”

“And what color were the dragon rider’s eyes, as I told you?”

“Er, were they blue?”

“Grey,” Drago corrected, drawing his blade. “Nearly silver. Like a Razorwhip scale.”

“Right, sir, of course. We must have been tired,” the second man interjected fearfully. “And it was dark - he was the spitting image aside from -”

“Quiet. I don't care how dark it was. Seems to me you two have already determined the rider is no longer on this island. That any boy will do. Maybe you doubt I’d even know the difference? So long as it's a close enough match.”

“No, sir, not at all-”

“Do not lie to me. I understand why he has not been found. He’s found a place to hide that nobody without imagination would think to look. Thus, you have already given up on finding him, which no doubt makes him feel quite safe. Until he thinks I've given up and it’s safe to come out, it’s likely he’ll continue to outfox you.

“So perhaps, it should appear as such.“ Drago looked thoughtfully toward the ocean, then put his blade away. He ignored the puffs of relief. “There is a shipment due west of here. Send word to the Chief of this village that I will be on that boat, leaving for a month. And don’t bother to be discreet about it. Let’s see if we can’t flush him out with false hope.”

The soldiers regarded at each other and then back to him, nodding. He dismissed them with a cool stare and glanced back over the waters. Drago’s eyes wandered slowly until they came to rest on the area of Roenna’s cliffsides where they always did. A large underwater cave with a grate firmly in place, keeping safe something he still needed.

It was a bother to feed the beast, especially now that it was useless and dying, but it would be worth it in the end. The Night Fury may have temporarily robbed Drago of victory, but his Bewilderbeast would soon claim it yet again, as the king of all living dragons.

To think that all it would take was a little pollen to drive his enemies to the ground.

He had tasted a bit of that victory already, come to think of it. As soon as Drago found what belonged to him, he would take yet another bite.

\-------

Tuff woke up to a low groan and a warmth beside him that nearly lulled him back to sleep. He was nearly there when he heard the groan again and cracked open an eye irritably. “Dude, you snore like my sister,” Tuffnut mumbled, lightly nudging Eret in the ribs.

Eret made a sleepy noise of protest and lifted his head. “I do not snore,” he protested, then promptly laid it back down.

Tuff was about to call him a liar, when the groan sounded again, this time louder. That . . . was not a human noise.

“Beowulf?” Tuff questioned, sitting up. He glanced at Eret, who opened his eyes, looking concerned as well.

The two of them edged toward the cave opening that looked down over Beowulf’s pond and Tuff gasped as he saw the Bewilderbeast laying with his chin on the rocks. The tusk was lifted up so as not to put any pressure on it, and it looked bad. Hairline black lines of infection were starting to show higher up, closer to the Bewilderbeast’s face - making the dragon look as though he were made of cracked porcelain.

Eret swore and Tuff hurriedly peeled off his tunic, already starting down the pathway to go to Beowulf’s side.

“Wait, where are you going? Drago could be here any second!”

“And if he finds Beowulf like this, he’s not even gonna bother feeding him! We gotta get him out of here - now! I’m okay to swim, are you?”

Eret looked at Tuff, who still looked pale and shaky, recovering from an infection of his own. Last night he had kissed this boy’s face, along his throat, felt him arch up into every affection Eret could think to give him. There was no way he was letting Tuff go anywhere alone.

He smiled and took off his tunic, throwing it back toward the pallet and starting after Tuff.

“Come on, let’s get him out of here.”

Tuff grinned at him and they hurried together toward the falls.

Beowulf groaned again as he saw them approach. Tuff took it slow and easy, speaking to him in a rambling but soothing fashion. The dragon was looking at him desperately, sides heaving as the poison of infection slowly burned through his great body.

The dragon didn’t move his head away when Tuff gently placed his hand on it. Eret watched, occasionally looking over his shoulder at the entrance Drago and his men usually took. There was the faintest creak, like that of a wagon wheel, that sent chills up his spine. “Tuff, we need to be in the water.”

“I know. Just hold on a moment,” Tuff said, distractedly. “I don’t know if he’s going to make it out of here, even if we do unlock that gate. He needs food to fight this off, at the very least.”

“Whatever you decide, we need to do it now. I heard something.”

Tuff looked up at him, fear flashing across his face. “Oh. Okay, then.” He hesitated only a moment, leaning down to give Beowulf a gentle kiss on his good tusk. Beowulf slowly shifted his eyes to regard him and made a soft trilling noise. It wasn’t quiet by any means, but it wasn’t hard to guess the meaning.

_Please . . . hurry._

He joined Eret in the water and the two of them disappeared beneath the surface, kicking toward the grotto as fast as they could swim.

There were no sharks this time of morning - the ocean had yet to be sun-warmed enough. Tuff squeezed past the stringy debris of corpses, brushing aside the clumps of hair and skin that reached for him and through the grate, grabbing a hold of one of the bolts stuck by rust. Seconds later, Eret joined him, and the two of them heaved, pulling down.

Eret strained and felt something give. Dirt and reddish clay started to sift from around the bolt and suddenly it slid, making the grate lean toward him a little bit. There was another one - sunk into the left side that neither of them could budge yesterday. Tuff was already swimming towards it, even though Eret knew he had to take a breath.

He took a chance, resurfacing quickly to inhale. A quick look around showed him there were no boats on the water, but he wasn't about to risk another second. He dove down, swimming after Tuff, who was clinging to the bolt and yanking, even though he looked like he was about to pass out.

Eret, gripped the bolt, once again straining. This one remained stuck. He grabbed Tuff by the waist and pushed him toward the grate, swimming in after him as they resurfaced in the grotto.

Tuff gasped, and went under again, but Eret pulled him back up. “Easy! It’s no good if you kill yourself doing this. Take a few breaths, then we’ll go again.”

The boy coughed and nodded, shivering hard in the water. Eret wrapped his arms around him to help keep him afloat. Tuff looked down and then up at Eret, gray eyes wide and uncertain. “Do you think he’ll be okay once we get him out of here?”

Eret sighed. “I know only as much as Valka and Hiccup taught me about dragons. Which wasn’t much. You know more than I. Either way, I suspect if he’s going to die, he may as well die free - and well fed.”

Sighing, Tuff nodded. “Yeah. I just . . .”

“I hope otherwise too. He may be enormous and terrifying, but keeping him like this is cruel. One way or the other, Tuff, you are saving him from Drago. Even if we can’t get him out, you’re showing him kindness that he’s probably never experienced.”

Tuffnut managed a smile and swam closer, putting his arms around Eret, kissing him. “That’s for telling me I’m not stupid for doing this,” he replied fondly to Eret’s dumbfounded look. “I need that sometimes.” He took a deep breath and dove under. Eret grinned and followed him back out.

Below the surface of the water, neither one of them heard the sudden pained roaring from within the cave.

\--------

  
He had shown up for his dragon’s feeding only to find it dying. The rot in its tusk had been looking bad the week prior, but Drago had already made plans to deal with the problem. He curled his lip and approached the Bewilderbeast, leaning down to look into its eyes.

“We should fix this now, I suppose,” he mused, tapping a blackened area with his hooked spear. The dragon shuddered and moaned piteously. “So that you can live to gain your victory. It wouldn’t be very impressive to the other dragons, sailing behind a sickly creature that can barely swim.”

He had been waiting for the dragon to succumb enough that it would be easy to pin its head down. Behind Drago, two men were approaching, carrying a long toothed saw between them with a handle on either end. Others were shouting, throwing chains across Beowulf’s head and horns, anchoring them around the natural stone bridges of the waterfalls. The dragon whined in despair, shifting as though to back away into the water as the saw’s teeth rested over the infected end of his tusk. Fear kept him in place more than the chains did, and Drago was counting on it - especially as he signalled for the men holding the implement to begin.

He let the Bewilderbeast roar, watching impassively as infected bone began to separate painfully from the rest of its tusk.

The dragon rolled his eyes, looking frantically around as though searching for someone. Drago scowled. Usually in times of stress, the Bewilderbeast had always looked directly at him - knowing he was the only one who could grant mercy, if mercy was allowable. Who then, was the sorry creature looking for?

Thinking he might have an idea, Drago motioned for the men to make haste. It took them ten grisly minutes to completely hack through the tusk, shoving the rotten material aside into a shallower pool. Black ichor stained the water like a cloud of blood, drifting out with the light current, to where the mouth of the falls fed the sea.

Drago motioned silently for his men to leave the cave and wait outside, then bent to look into Beowulf’s frantic eyes. Not finding who it was looking for, the dragon at last looked to him, keening in misery.

“Must I remind you who you belong to?” he asked, coldly.

Beowulf closed his eyes and though his massive head was pinned in place, he made the effort to bow it submissively. Satisfied, Drago leaned down to unchain him.

\-------

The bolt finally gave, taking a piece of flesh from Eret’s fingers with it as it slid free. He let out a curse, which erupted in a small cascade of air bubbles, and sucked at his finger. Tuff floated closer and took his uninjured hand, swimming them back up to the dome. The tide was coming in, so they were a bit closer to the ceiling than was strictly comfortable. There had also been a few small sharks brushing past them on their way in, and soon they would return to eat what was tuck to the grate.

This time, it didn’t seem likely that Beowulf could clean up for them. “We have to make it back,” Eret gasped, as Tuff inspected his wounded hand. “Now that the grate’s undone, he might be able to push through it.”

“Yeah. Hope he’s okay still.” Tuff looked at him, clearly exhausted. The water rushed in, pushing them a little closer yet to the roof of the grotto. He glanced at Eret, who nodded. They would have to see if they could coax Beowulf into the waters, and quickly - before Drago came for the feeding. The light outside was hard to tell time by, but Eret figured they’d been at it for an hour. Drago usually came to the cavern later in the morning. Tuff offered him a tired grin and kissed the fingers of his wounded hand, then his lips, before sinking down and starting to swim back.

Eret followed close, and frowned when he saw clouds of black in the water. Something was off - he kicked his legs harder, trying to catch up to Tuff, only to see several other bodies suddenly plunging in around them, sending a confusion of light and churning bubbles.

He felt someone seize his hair and a knife point jab him in the ribs as he was dragged out of the water, heard Tuff screaming and cursing - voice shrill with terror. That sound made Eret turn on his nearest attacker with a vengeance, slamming a fist into the man’s jaw and knocking him back into the water. He twisted the knife-holder’s arm and elbowed him in the face, winning himself a weapon.

Tuff was screaming, and Eret took a moment to get his bearings - to find where he was. His gut went cold when he saw the blond being thrown down at Drago’s feet.

“NO!” Eret screamed and slashed his way towards him, running along the dry rocks and for once not trembling at the sight of Drago’s cold sneer. He ran to engage the warlord even as the man raised his arm.

It wasn’t an arrow, or a spear or even Drago himself who halted his progress.

A horribly warm darkness suddenly surrounded him, and Eret grunted as he was pressed to the roof of an enormous toothed maw. Jaws snapped closed around him with a heart-stopping finality, nearly separating him from his feet.

Eret froze, crushed between a soft palette and a thick tongue and barely able to breathe even before water suddenly began rushing around him as the Bewilderbeast sunk below the surface. The last thing he heard before liquid filled his ears was Tuffnut despondently screaming his name.

 

 

 

tbc


	9. Twice Shy

Tuff stared at the large ripple of water where Beowulf had disappeared with Eret. His brain screamed at him to do something, but he couldn’t seem to move his limbs, let alone breathe properly. A hand suddenly grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking him to his feet jarred him out of it, and he twisted, throwing a violent punch.

There was a brief moment of satisfaction as Drago let go of him and reeled back, apparently not having expected that. Blood fell from Tuff’s knuckles, as the larger man wiped his face, slowly. Drago looked at the crimson drops on his fingertips and then at the shaking dragon rider.

Sudden laughter made Tuff’s flesh crawl and he failed to back away quickly enough to avoid the massive hand that latched around his throat, lifting him off his feet. He snatched Eret’s knife from his hip and tried to stab at Drago’s hand, but a hard shake made him see a flash of light. The knife fell from his grip onto the wet stones with a clatter. Tuff’s hands clawed fruitlessly at Drago’s skin, leaving scratches but otherwise unable to pry the man’s fingers away from his windpipe.

“I suppose my dragon can come up for the rest of his food when he is done eating your friend,” Drago sneered. Tuff nearly sneered back, about to tell him Beowulf hadn’t been eating the corpses at all, but then he faltered. There was a chance Eret was still alive then, wasn’t there? He couldn’t draw attention to the possibility, nor could he bear to think otherwise - to believe Beowulf had given in to Drago.

“It’s been a while, since I have given him live food. Possibly, he is drowning at this moment, before my dragon swallows him. Would you like to know what your trapper friend is experiencing?” The hand tightened around Tuff’s throat, making him choke and renew his struggles.

Drago waded into the pool until the water reached his thighs. He loosened his grip just long enough for Tuff to take a frantic breath, then plunged him into the shallow water, letting the surface close over his face.

Tuff struggled, kicked and reached up to claw at Drago’s arm, terrified and forgetting in his panic to hold his breath. Bubbles burst out of him in a frightened scream - air he could ill afford to waste. He held the rest of it in barely, struggling to reach the surface.

The seconds felt like hours, and the man didn’t pull him up until his lungs were screaming, body nearly convulsing from lack of oxygen.

Tuffnut whined in his grasp, trying to kick the man in the stomach even as he drew in frantic breaths. His body was weakened by lack of oxygen, making his blows as effective as kicking a boulder.

Drago smirked. “You’re in such a hurry. Do you think you can save him still? Lets see if it’s possible.”

Grinning cruelly at Tuff’s yell of protest, he once more plunged him under water. This time he waited until Tuff’s body took over, breathing in water to flood his lungs and sinus. Tuff saw the edges of his vision go dark before Drago pulled him up again.

Tuff didn’t fight this time, retching and coughing out water. He clung to the man’s arm helplessly, for fear of being held under again. His terror appeared to satisfy Drago.

He tossed the boy into the hold of two other men. “Attach him to the cart. He can dry off on the way up. If he lags a step, whip him.”

Nothing else was said, and Tuffnut didn’t have the energy to fight as a chain was wrapped around his neck and his hands bound behind him. 

With red rimmed eyes he looked behind him and finally saw the sawed off tusk, gleaming black and gray and seeping infected blood into the once clear pools.

That had to have hurt and terrified Beowulf - such that Tuffnut could no longer deny the possibility that the Bewilderbeast had submitted fully to Drago.

Eret had warned him, and he hadn't listened. And now . . .

Heartsick, Tuff stumbled as he was chained to the back of the wagon that the men had finished hauling dead pigs out of. It was smeared with gore and bloody hay, but otherwise empty. Drago was making a point not to let him ride in it.

He looked around hopelessly for any sign Eret could have gotten free as it started moving toward the cavern’s exit, dragging him with it. Letting out a low anguished sob, Tuff made himself keep pace behind it.

\-----

Eret came to, coughing up seawater and worse, until his lungs and throat fairly burned. He lay there panting in the wet sand, trying and failing to sit up twice before he managed.

A cave . . . he was still in a damned cave - though this was a different one. He could see the shore outside and the receding waters of the tide going out. How long had he been out?

Head pounding, Eret looked around in confusion, not understanding for a few moments where Tuff had gone - or how they had gotten out of there to these new surroundings.

A low sad trill filled the cave, making him jolt. Eret turned quickly to see an enormous white shape filling up the rest of the cave. He gasped raggedly and crawled backwards - putting some space between himself and the Bewilderbeast’s face.

 _Beowulf_ _. . . ?_

Eret rasped out the dragon’s name and tried to stand up.

There were bloody gashes and punctures across the dragon’s brow, and his tusk . . . He must have rammed the gate with Eret still in his mouth. Which meant that -

“Tuff!” Eret breathed, suddenly terrified for him as memories came back in a jumbled rush - Tuff being thrown at Drago’s feet, then screaming out his name. Shaking, Eret turned to rush for the cave’s mouth, losing his balance before catching himself against a mossy boulder. He retched yet more water, vision blurring out momentarily. Despite that, Eret made himself stand, heart racing.

“Drago has Tuff!” he shouted, looking over his shoulder at Beowulf.

The dragon crooned, staring at him. It was then Eret really looked at what remained of the dragon’s tusk. Chills went up his spine and he moved forward a little, eyes full of grieved concern.

“What did he do to you?”

A cold practical part of him knew that Drago had done exactly what needed to be done - removing the rotten part of the tusk so that Beowulf didn’t die. Nevertheless, he couldn’t imagine it had been done with any conceivable kindness.

Eret reached out without thinking and was surprised when the Bewilderbeast lowered his head, trilling lowly with a desperate need for comfort. He wanted it, clearly, but could not seem to make himself come close enough for Eret to touch him.

The former trapper did the best he could, murmuring soothingly despite the terror that seized his heart on Tuff’s behalf.

Beowulf had escaped his monster, but Tuffnut was right back in Drago’s grasp. The only consolation was that Eret knew the man wouldn’t outright kill Tuff . . . at least not quickly. They had time; Drago would want to savor him.

Swallowing his fury, Eret looked up at Beowulf, who seemed to be frozen, waiting for a command.

He remembered Fishlegs’ story of a group of Quakens that he’d once freed from some Dragon Hunters.

The Quakens couldn’t understand kindness, as they had been raised from hatchlings to do nothing but obey. Fishlegs had to first order them to gain their respect - and only after that, only after he’d discarded the tool used to direct them and continued with kindness, could the dragons recover from what had been done to them.

Eret sighed and tried to calm himself. He wanted to run up that hill right now, armed to the teeth, but it would only get him killed. Tuff needed him. Beowulf needed him too, and more than that - the dragon needed to regain his strength for the fight ahead.

He looked out toward the ocean. “Beowulf - now that you’ve broken free from the cave, you must eat your fill.”

Beowulf trilled again, looking toward the incoming tide and hungrily licking his chops. Eret squinted to see what the dragon was looking at, and saw the dorsal fins of several orcas.

“I imagine you have room for several of those, don’t you?” Eret asked warmly. The dragon rumbled in agreement, moving forward out of the cave and toward the waters.

Eret stood well out of his way and looked up toward the cliffs, hoping against hope nobody was watching to alert Drago of Beowulf’s escape. For such a large dragon, he disappeared quickly and almost seamlessly into the waters, blending with the white sand as he moved out to stalk the pod.

It was amazing what dragons understood, just from reading a human’s intent. He’d seen them as no more than animals in the past - vicious monsters who had no souls, only the instinct to kill. Yet Tuffnut had talked to the Bewilderbeast, with affection and concern - and somehow it had been enough to give a terrorized, obedient weapon the courage to break free of his chains.

He had no doubt in his heart now that Beowulf was their friend. Tuff had been right, all along.

Eret turned, searching through the sand until he found the weapon that had earlier been in his hand - his axe. He leaned against the wet stone, coughing yet again and running a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Tuff,” he breathed, and once again looked up at the forbidding cliffs where the boy had likely been taken. “We’re coming for you,” he promised quietly. “Hold on.”

His hand tightened around the handle of his weapon, knuckles white.

\-----

A cold and heavy mist had fallen upon the cliff plateau, freezing his skin though he’d long since dried off on the long awful trek behind the cart.

Tuff huddled against the pillar of the new armory, hiding his face behind his hair - the picture of misery. What little he had been wearing had been reduced to rags tied about his waist - mostly by manhandling him away from the cart. He had been made to wait outside, and though his hands were free, he was now chained by the neck to a stake set in the ground - much like a dog.

The guards had apparently been frustrated, searching for him for a long time and likely even punished when they turned up empty handed. It showed; some sneered at him as they passed, others spat or kicked mud at him. The man walking behind him and the cart had taken every opportunity to strike at his body with the reed he carried, even if Tuff had kept pace.

Despondent, Tuff ignored them all as best as he could, knowing it was small change compared to what Drago would do to him just as soon as he left the building. Apparently he was planning to mobilize soon - the camp was bustling with activity as people loaded wagons to carry down to the docks.

He was probably going to be on the man’s boat as well - which meant no escape.

Tuff drew his knees up and rested his forehead against them. He didn’t care who saw his weakness just now; he was hurt and heartsick for Eret. His mind was tormenting him worst of all, replaying the sight of Beowulf snapping his jaws down and -

Abruptly his eyes stung, hands shaking as he reached up to hurriedly wipe them clear.

Heavy footsteps made him jolt and then freeze. Trembling, he swallowed the urge to start wailing as Drago made his way down the wooden stairs of the building.

Tuff turned his face away, too scared to look directly at him and utterly hating the terror that dug talons in his chest, making him cringe into a ball. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his shot nerves.

There was the rattling clink of his chain-end being picked up and then it was yanked harshly, dragging him across the ground to Drago’s feet. Tuff hitched and dug in his heels, trying to find some resistance in the mud. There was no help for it; he ended up where Drago pulled him, and struggled not to hyperventilate.

People stopped in their tasks to watch as Drago dropped his chains and gripped the rider’s hair, forcing Tuff to his feet.

The man’s face so close to his made his skin crawl and his mind go numb from fear. Despite that, he tried to school his expression into a neutral one, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how afraid he was.

After a moment of intense scrutiny, Drago smirked. “How long were you holed up in that cave?” he asked, in a parody of gentleness.

Tuff didn’t answer, thanks to a sudden awful dryness in his mouth.

“My dragon never once indicated you were there. Not until the very end, when I caught you from the water. Were you thinking you could train him to be loyal? To you? To Hiccup?”

Fuck. Tuffnut couldn’t make himself reply. It seemed he’d get Beowulf into trouble no matter what he said - and despite everything he couldn’t bring himself to hate the dragon. None of it had been his fault.

The rider shut his eyes tightly as Drago laughed - apparently taking his trembling silence for an answer.

“I’ve had that dragon since he was a hatchling,” Drago finally said, sounding amused. “I alone was there when he first opened his eyes. I have been his entire world from his very beginning, for twenty years. You truly thought you could escape, and cause my own Bewilderbeast to turn against me, in a matter of days?”

He was shaking like a leaf, but Drago’s words angered him. For Beowulf’s sake, Tuff managed to look up defiantly.

“It doesn’t matter if you were there when he hatched. You’ve starved him, let him get sick, sawed his tusk off! All as punishment for losing to Toothless, even though it was _you_ who underestimated all of _us_. If Beowulf does ever turn against you, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Drago stared him down incredulously. When Tuffnut didn’t let himself cower this time, he again harshly gripped the boy’s chin. “ _Beowulf_? You’ve _named_ it?” the man sneered.

“Well, someone had to!” Tuff shot back, trying to keep Drago off guard, or at least distracted. “Unless ‘AAARGH’ is supposed to be his name, which is neither useful _nor_ imaginative.”

“You are fascinating to me. A sensible man would be begging forgiveness right now. Do you not understand your position? You are only alive right now because I have decided you are still worth breaking.”

“Yay me,” Tuff managed under his breath.

“Your friend was luckier to be eaten,” Drago went on coldly. Tuff froze at that, stomach clenching. “Though I had thought he was already long dead. There is nobody to coming to save you now. Not your trapper. Not my dragon. Not Hiccup.”

“Then I will save myself,” Tuffnut spat, recklessly defiant.

“Will you?” The man’s hand tangled in Tuff’s hair and forced him down to his knees in the mud. “I believe some humility needs to be learned here.”

There was a ring of men around them, having stopped to watch - and more were joining it. He couldn’t bring himself to regard the interest on their faces.

Drago loomed over him, making him shiver uncontrollably in his shadow despite everything. “Bow to me.”

Tuff flinched, not liking where this was going. He refused to obey, nevertheless, he couldn’t help but flinch when Drago raised his voice.

“I said **bow to me!** ”

It was likely the only warning he’d get.

Tuff, still shaking, very slightly inclined his head - heart aching with shame at giving in even that much.

A heavy boot stepped on his shoulder, forcing him face-first into the muck. Tuffnut squawked in distress and dug his fingers into the soft earth as Drago added yet more punishing weight, making his shoulder scream in protest.

Only when Tuff lay completely flat, with his face in the mud, did the weight lift. By then, rage and grief had got the better of him. Tuff pushed himself back up, grabbed a handful of wet soil and flung it at Drago’s face.

The murmurs and general noise grew suddenly deathly silent as the spattered mess slowly dripped and dribbled down Drago’s features.

Well this was it - the man was definitely going to kill him in the next few seconds. Tuff scrambled to his feet and tried to make a break for it, but it did him no good. Bludvist merely stepped on the chain and let Tuffnut run to the end of it, clotheslining himself and slamming to the ground on his back, choking.

As he lay there dazed, a kick to his ribs rolled him back onto his stomach. There was a moment of activity above him, and something tapped against his back briefly before swinging down and tearing fire across his flesh.

Tuff screamed in shocked pain and tried squirming away, but the man’s foot weighed down on his shoulder yet again. It kept him crushed to earth as Drago again swung down the crop with cruel use of his strength.

There was far too much force behind it and the impact drove the breath from his lungs before a horrible swelling sting built up into a crescendo. Before he could take another breath, the short whip came down a third time, crisscrossing the first welt and ripping a scream from Tuffnut’s throat.

He wailed involuntarily as it continued, struggling frantically to get out from under the man’s weight. After ten, Drago paused and Tuff couldn’t hold back his sobs, the pain increasing unbearably before dulling.

“That was for disrespect. And this will be for your disobedience.”

His heart stuttered in terror as he heard the swish of Drago’s arm again raising. Tuff screamed in panic before it even came down, more terrified at the memory of the pain than the blows themselves.

It was happening to him and once again he couldn’t stop it, or defend himself. Hysteria mounting, he started thrashing in the mud, trying to break away. It was useless; Drago had him completely pinned.

Plaintively, without thinking, Tuff screamed for Eret.

The burst of laughter that accompanied it jolted his memory and hurt so much worse than the lashes. He felt something give in his chest and hitched, starting to break down helplessly.

Drago dealt more blows - Tuff actually lost count how many - before finally stepping off of him and letting him curl on his side. Tuff couldn’t seem to stop crying, even as the man coldly watched him. He covered his face with his arms, trying to at least muffle his loss of control somewhat.

The laughter hadn’t really stopped, although Drago had never once joined in, silent. He knelt next to Tuff, running his cool fingers over the boy’s hair, stroking his face soothingly with the backs of them.

Tuff didn’t have the strength to recoil, exhausted and finding himself unable to reject any kindness. His mind was betraying him, frantically babbling that he needed to keep Drago nice - he needed to try harder to appease the man.

Desperate not to cave in, he shut his eyes tightly, still leaking tears and shaking more violently than before.

“You will be a joy to train,” Drago murmured appreciatively. He ran his fingers across Tuff’s welted back, making him squirm and cry out. “The men on my ship may even help teach you, though they will pay gold for the privilege. For now, though, we will let them anticipate.”

Drago’s wandering hand reached his hips and grabbed the waistband of his only remaining cover, ripping it away from his body. Tuff hitched, curling tighter to try and hide himself as several of the men jeered and whistled.

_Not again, not again - Loki, **please** -_

The man’s fingers found and probed at his entrance roughly, eliciting a scream of panic. Drago forced two of them in, pushing until Tuff’s voice broke. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please-!”

“Whatever for?” the man hummed, giving his already bruised walls a sharp punishing thrust.

He screamed again, clawing at the mud to drag himself away, but Drago knelt on his back, pinning him in place as he continued relentlessly.

The remaining shreds of Tuff’s dignity kept him from answering until Drago started forcing in a third finger dry. “I-I’m sorry for throwing mud at you!”

“And what else?” Bludvist kept pushing in.

Tuff wailed, apologizing for anything he could think of to just get the man to stop. For the armory, for running away, for insulting him - for coming here in the first place.

“Would you say you have earned this?” Another sharp jab, the man’s fingernails scraped at his insides making the boy shriek.

Eret was dead because of him. Berk was going to be destroyed because of him - along with his sister, his family, his friends. As usual, he’d messed everything up.  

Maybe he _did_ deserve this.

His will broke utterly and he stopped struggling, just hitching and going limp, letting it happen.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-” Tuff got out, body wracked with grieving sobs. He wasn't apologizing to Drago, though he no longer had any fight in him.

The man pulled his fingers out and wiped the blood off on Tuff’s hip, leaving a red smudge. Bludvist stood, looking down at him condescendingly.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he instructed smoothly. Tuff hitched, but obeyed, trying to ignore the humiliating cheers and cacophony of the onlookers though his face burned.

“I'm going to give you a choice, dragon _liberator_.” The man’s tone was almost mockingly indulgent. “Do you wish to take my brand now, or after you crawl like a dog behind me to my tent?”

Tuff felt a wave of nausea hit and looked up at Drago in mute terror. There was no question as to what would be happening to him in that tent. “Please don't - please -” he croaked.

Drago coldly stared him down. “Which shall it be?”

A flash went through his mind of the brand on Eret’s chest and his lips moving across it in the grotto. Of the man’s soft kisses and warm arms. Tuff closed his eyes tightly, hitching and unable to answer. He didn’t want Drago to touch him, nor did he want to carry his mark.

He wanted Eret.

Tears ran down his face, dripping into the mud and his throat closed, rendering him silent.

Drago smirked, triumphant. “I can see you need some time to think it over. You will stay exactly like that until I return.”

He felt a spark of panic in his gut as the man walked away, leaving him exposed and helpless. Tuff didn’t have the courage to protest, just hiding his face behind his mud-soaked hair and trembling.

Surprisingly, the men around him slowly started to drift off, returning to their work. It seemed they knew better than to touch what wasn’t theirs.

\---------

Food. There was so much food now - finally enough food to fill his belly. The dragon had eaten well despite how weakly he was treading the water. Nothing in the area seemed to recognize him as a predator and simply didn’t move out of the way fast enough.

And there was so much room - to swim and stretch his limbs. Warm sunlight on his skin, gleaming through the waves.

Beowulf trilled with happiness as he broke the surface of the water, unable to help reveling in his new found freedom despite the agony his tusk was in. Food and light had definitely improved his condition - enough to rescue his captured friend.

Wondering if his other human needed to regain strength, Beowulf caught a walrus and carried the dead thing in his mouth all the way to shore.

The human looked startled as Beowulf deposited it in the sand before him. Quite proud of himself for having caught and eaten about half his weight in fish, whale fat, and squid, he churred happily and sat back down in the tide with an earth-shaking splash.

Eret chuckled and approached Beowulf, lifting his hand to gently pat him. The fear that had been there before was gone now, so maybe the walrus had been a good move. He made a counter effort of not flinching away from the gentle touch.

“Thank you for the offer, Beowulf,” the dark haired one said. “But Tuff needs us more. We have to get him away from Drago. Have you regained enough strength to scale that cliff?”

Beowulf looked up to the plateau and growled softly, hackles raising. If Tuff was right up there, he saw no sense wasting any more time. Drago had been his master for years, and he was more than a little apprehensive about facing the man. But these humans had freed him, had shown kindness. He would not leave either of them to Bludvist’s idea of mercy.

He leaned his head down, waiting for Eret to climb up to ride on his brow.

It took a moment for the human to get the idea, but once Eret was secure, Beowulf turned and headed toward the cliffside, ignoring the people who now saw him from the village and were screaming in utter horror. He sunk his claws into the rock and hauled himself up in less than a minute, teeth bared as his head raised over the edge of the cliff.

A thick fog obscured him and Eret, blending with his pale hide and giving him some element of surprise as he padded slowly and silently toward the camp. Bewilderbeasts - for as massive as they were - could move surprisingly stealthily when they needed to.

Eret had gotten off him, quietly and efficiently taking out the oblivious guards directly in their path. He disappeared into the fog, but the dragon could still catch his scent, and knew he was alright.

Beowulf sniffed the air for Tuff as they snuck up on the camp. His hackles raised again immediately; he could smell blood and fear, hear Tuff’s shrill terrorized panting.

Drago’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Have you made up your mind?” the man was sneering. The smell of burning hot metal carried through the mist. Tuff answered him brokenly, and whatever he said made Drago chuckle without mirth.

Beowulf pulled back his lips in a silent snarl, still moving quietly closer. Now he could just make out the forms ahead.

“You choose the brand then? As if it will delay the inevitable. Let us hear you ask for it properly.”

A low exhausted whimper. Tuff’s bloodied, shaking figure cowered away from the glowing brand, even as Drago raised it - merciless as always. “Please . . . br- . . . bran- . . .” He couldn’t seem to make himself say the words.

“ **Ask for it!** ” Drago bellowed and Tuffnut gave a frightened sob, cringing down.

No human would have been able to pick up the sound of Tuff’s heart pounding hard in terror, but Beowulf heard it clearly. It was too fast - and his breathing was shallow and labored. His human was already injured and submissive, yet Drago was intent on breaking him even further.

The painful familiarity of it all made the dragon see red.

His snarl turned into a growl and quickly built up into an ear splitting roar as his mouth filled with a cold light. The dragon’s enraged form was visible now, and it caused an immediate panic as he surged forward at the camp, blowing an icy blast that blew guards, carts and supplies out of his way.

Men shouted in alarm, and scrambled uselessly - some going for the remaining weapons up here, others running for the docks to get to the ship’s catapults (or to later claim they were).

In the complete chaos, only Drago stood firm, getting over his shock to furiously yell orders. He got the attention of several pikemen who advanced, yelling. Beowulf roared in fury and swept his good tusk along the ground, scattering them through the air like cards.

No longer needing stealth, his massive steps shook the ground as he stormed forward, bearing down on Drago and the prisoner at his feet.

Drago roared at him, tossing aside the brand in favor of the staff he’d used on Beowulf in the past. He raised it, well practiced with intimidating the dragon.

It didn’t work this time. Beowulf merely paused in his tracks, watching blankly as Drago attempted to scare him back into submission. It was very nearly comical.

Eret rejoined them, cracking two men’s heads together and stepping over their bodies. “Are you quite done?” he asked the warlord from behind, tone flat.

Tuff choked out his name, immediately tried to stand up, and fell back to his knees. Eret raced to Tuffnut’s side, now that no men were rushing to get in his way. Those of Bludvist’s men who had stayed to fight were either dead or running away.

Eret knelt to release him from the awful choke chain, leaving Drago to Beowulf.

The Bewilderbeast had never been free to make a decision before. He tilted his great head at Drago, contemplating what he should do.

Twenty years of being owned by this man prevented him from taking action - from outright killing Bludvist. Drago grinned when the dragon made no sudden move to end him, instead giving a frustrated whine. He had thought this would be easier.

“That’s right, dragon. You know who your true master is,” Drago sneered.

“H-hey - Beowulf,” Tuff called to him. He was standing now, swaying a little and breathing hard. Eret had his arm around the younger man’s waist to keep him steady. The dragon didn’t take his eyes off Drago, but he trilled softly to show he was listening.

“Y-You don't _have_ to fight him to be free. You know that, right? He doesn't matter now - he can’t ever hurt you again and he knows it. I mean, look at you. You're already free to do whatever it is you want for the rest of your life. And you have a home with us on Berk, if you want that too. We can all go home right now. Th-The only thing we might want to do first, is to get rid of that.”

Tuff gestured to the field of black fronds, sending choking amounts of pollen on the breeze. Beowulf turned to look at it. While the pollen didn’t affect water dragons, he still growled uncomfortably at the smell of it.

"The pollen will kill any dragon that flies near it and breathes it in. It will kill all our dragons if it spreads to Berk. It will kill your King."

And Drago had been the one to plant it there. That went without saying. Beowulf grumbled lowly and decided, letting a cold blast fill his mouth. Furious, Drago shouted an counter-order - which the dragon cheerfully ignored as he showered the field with ice, completely encasing the deadly crop. The frost killed the plant immediately, thick enough that not even seeds could survive.

Screaming in rage, Drago gripped his staff and pressed in one spot. With a muffled click, a blade stuck out of the bottom. Instead of stabbing at Beowulf, he turned on his heel and ran towards Tuff.

Beowulf turned back, once again proud of himself, until he saw Drago’s new target. Eret grabbed an axe, moving in front of Tuff to protect him and ignoring the boy’s protests.

It wasn’t necessary.

The behemoth only let Drago get a short distance, then shot a quick frozen breath. It the man broadside and a scoop of the dragon’s tusk sent him flying into the armory - crashing through it to land inside.

Bludvist hit the floorboards like a rag doll, right arm and leg trapped in jagged shards of ice. No sound came from him; he’d likely been struck unconscious if not killed.

Still bristling with fury, Beowulf lowered his head, encasing the building in another blast of ice so it would be far too dense for his men to break through easily. The man would likely freeze to death, along with the bags of Night-scale seeds that had yet to be loaded on the ships before anyone found him. All things considered, the dragon felt little remorse.

He turned and lowered his great head, holding still for Eret as the man carefully picked Tuff up.

“We’re stealing a ship first thing,” the man promised soothingly, as he carried him onto Beowulf. “And getting you _both_ home.”

Tuff nodded mutely, face pale, and holding on a bit too tightly.

The kindest thing Beowulf could think of was to put a distance between all of them and this place. Turning his back on the ruined and lifeless camp, Beowulf began climbing back down to the shore, careful to hold his humans above water as he made for the docks.

\----

Most if not all ships had medicine, bandages, clothing and provisions already stocked, so Eret wasn’t picky, taking advantage of the chaos. Absolutely no-one was going to argue with someone who’d just jumped off the head of a partially submerged Bewilderbeast, and sure enough the moment he landed on the deck, the people making it sail-ready started jumping overboard like fleas.

He'd left Tuff on Beowulf twice in the last hour, the first time to go back into the caves to retrieve the map Tuff had stolen and now for securing them a way home. He had not let himself focus on the cuts and welts or the way Tuff had reached out for him desperately as he climbed down. After a quick search for stowaways, Eret returned with a blanket and reached out his hands to help Tuff clamber down.

The dragon rider went with him, face white and shaking so hard his teeth chattered. Tuff was no fool, he made himself let go so Eret could cut the mooring and steer them away from the docks. Beowulf followed alongside, his presence enough to make the ships ahead of them frantically steer out of their way.

Drago’s men and civilians alike looked to be fleeing Roenna, stirred by the presence of the massive dragon. Eret could have sworn he glimpsed the Chief himself on a barge full of ale casks, his men frantically pulling oars while he stared around him, wet-eyed and dumbfounded. A hell of a time to be sober, apparently.

They were out on the open ocean soon enough - and with Beowulf swimming out beside them, the hue and cry of terrorized villagers turned into a ragged cheer.

Eret lashed the rudder in place and turned immediately to care for Tuff. The young man’s eyes were glassy, but he hadn’t taken them off Eret once. Taking the medicine kit he’d found down below, Eret knelt in front of him to see how badly he was injured.

Before he could begin, he was promptly tackled.

Tuff buried his face in Eret’s throat and pressed against him, shaking. Eret’s attempts at soothing him were interrupted by a storm of kisses, Tuff nearly flattening him to the deck with the force of his onslaught.

Eret kissed back, unsure where to touch Tuff that wouldn’t cause him pain, but wanting to touch him everywhere.

After a final fierce kiss to Eret’s lips, Tuffnut broke off and panted harshly against the man’s shoulder. “I thought you were dead - I thought Beowulf had to obey -“

“No, no, the dragon didn’t hurt me. Just carried me in his mouth and Loki’d the hell out of everyone.”

Tuff let out a strangled noise, torn between laughing and sobbing. Eret reached up, stroking his face and Tuffnut nuzzled the palm of his hand desperately. “Don’t leave me again,” he pleaded oddly.

Eret understood and sat up, letting Tuff curl into his lap. He wrapped the blanket tighter around him to take the edge off the cold, and held him close. There was the sound of water gently lapping against the side of the boat as Beowulf broke the surface to peer at them over the railing - mostly just to check on them.

It was a long way toward home, but the course for it had been set. As they left Roenna behind, the sun peeked through thinning clouds and slowly warmed the deck.

Eret leaned back against the mast with Tuff in his arms, and let himself close his eyes.

 

tbc


End file.
